Don't Give in to that Feeling
by Bew0G
Summary: Darvey - A Suits season-8-based fiction. Rated M (but accessible). Summary: Donna kissed Harvey. Harvey broke up with Paula. Harvey wanted things back to normal. Harvey and Donna danced at Mike & Rachel's wedding and then hell broke loose.
1. Chapter 1

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 **Don't Give in to that Feeling**

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Prologue

He swayed to the rhythm of loss, his mind replaying that goodbye with Mike; his body responding to a loved one as he danced to the rhythm of a dream.

He could swear Donna had been giving him hints that she was interested. Sheer contact and various dance moves had made it impossible for him not to come in contact with the parts that made her who she was. She was a gorgeous woman who brandished the most infrequent hair color. He spent some time staring at her backless dress, taking in that bare pale skin, drawn to that black sleeveless unity with a strange pattern lacing on the back – something akin to zigzags. His physical response to having his hands graze her skin was pulsating in his pants and he wondered if she could feel it. Even if he wasn't quite sure he understood the workings of this particular low-back, misguided strapless dress, he was dead certain his hands, arms and chest had brushed past hard nipples.

The kiss that night in her office encompassed the purest essence of need: a signal that she wanted more. Paula was a distant memory – nothing more than a moment of madness for the woman standing so close to him was an object of desire. The reception hall was full of Tanners and Marks and guys he would have never dreamed of knowing. His friends and guests were dancing around them but all he could see was the woman in his arms being coveted by men who weren't him; they had no right.

The passion he felt for her would never run out. She was that scotch refill he wouldn't take because he was afraid to drink the whole thing. He'd refused that state of inebriation so many times before; years of nights in her company. Unable to let himself go, too afraid she'd say no. And yet, he felt like a king and she, his creature so much so that the feeling of her hand on his back, the sweet caress of her fingertips against his knuckles sent him raving.

Lips close to her ear, trembling and tasting incomplete, he did the only thing his muted mouth couldn't say. _Come with me._ Taking a risk by dragging her out of the dance floor unceremoniously made him walk faster. The beating in his chest emphasized the thrilling sensation of catching her off-guard.

Before he knew, they were out of the reception hall. He couldn't hear what she was saying for he was focused on finding more intimate surroundings. He found a door leading into a dim-lit library.

"What's going on Harvey?"

 _I don't want to dance anymore._ The rise and fall of his stomach set off by the rush he felt didn't just indicate lust in the form of erratic breathing, but the distinct fear that the creature of his dreams would bail out the second he told her his motivation for coming here.

"Okay, so why did you bring me here?"

He could feel himself analyzing this too much. He didn't know whether he was frozen in space or time. He didn't feel that aching frustration anymore; he didn't think he knew what his name was anymore. All he could see and feel was her, inches away, her back against the door.

He saw her place her hand on the doorknob. "Well, I'm gonna go back out there and fix myself a drink while you figure out what it is you want to tell me."

He watched her turn the knob to open the door. The click sound he heard had him head straight for her, yank her hand away from the knob and back her up against the door.

Craving her, desiring every inch of her was one of the many sins their relationship had concealed from view. Purging those sins without her wasn't even an option.

Not sliding his tongue against hers, staying away from her lips and not bending towards her were never recorded in that fast-forward brain of his. Rewinding through short-term memory as she began responding to his kiss, everything became clear. She wanted this too. He stooped to trail kisses from her jaw to her neck. His closed eyes could see as if through thermal goggles. Patches of orange and red heat emitted from her. Reveling in that infrared spectrum, he buried his head against the pulsing point of her carotid artery and sucked, switching her band to his. Encircling her waist, drawing her in, he forced her to turn around. Cheek pressed against the door, her face looked flushed, desperate for more as she panted for air.

She put her hand between them and began stroking the mistreated length under his pants. He groaned into her hair and unraveled the laces in her back by ripping them from her body. She gasped and all he could do was watch the top fabric fall down to her waist, exposing a map of skin and the road to the small of her back. He could feel her shiver beneath his fingertips as they sought a path towards the fabric she was holding on to. All forms of restraint disappeared and she unclenched her fists, letting the dress fall to the floor.

He gulped as she turned around. Her breasts were full, nipples taut and pink, desperate for his mouth. He stepped forward and cupped her breasts in his hands. He stooped down again to suck on one of them while his thumb stroked her free nipple.

"Harvey."

He felt his name deep in his core as it fell from her soft aroused tone. She unbuttoned his pants and pulled the zipper down. She slid her hand inside his boxers, reached for his cock and yanked it free. He fisted his shaft; slowing his strokes down to torture because he couldn't wait to be inside of her. He watched her part the lace of her panties that shielded her entrance from view to the side. He cradled one leg in his arms, giving him enough access to ease himself into her. She moaned for him to go harder on her and then faster until her leg seemed so weak he had to support it too. He thrust, extremities burning with desire for her and hips pushing upward.

He moaned, arm and hand sore as he tumbled into the realm of reality; hips twitching violently, cum on his sheets and the fantasy gone.

I – Keep them all inside

Harvey had spent three hours in a meeting with Robert and Louis. From renaming the firm Zane Specter Litt to agreeing on Robert's list of associates he would bring in. Alex would stay as junior partner for now and Samantha Wheeler – who, to say the least, had made quite an entrance this morning, wouldn't move up the ladder either. There were so many new issues; a new case he didn't want to think about. And yet half of his mind was stuck on the woman in the office next to his. He hadn't jerked off to her in ages. Not because he didn't want to. God he'd wanted to so many times and had sought the image of her accordingly. He wasn't sure her face had been as vivid as it was last night. He'd dreamed of her but masturbating to the thought of her hadn't happened a lot, maybe out of respect for her or simply because she was some year-old memory. He'd tried forbidding himself to do it too. Maybe he'd come up with body parts he remembered at times, wondering if he hadn't associated her existence in some form or another each time.

But Donna hadn't been included in some Picasso-like painting of exes last night; she was the only one on his mind. What used to be in black and white before had turned somewhat sepia – distant and yet so close. And many times, he'd wondered if she did the same – touching herself thinking of him, allowing him to revel in the fact that she might have. It was her attachment he was lost in. Her love wasn't a sure thing anymore. But she was the only one who could keep his head from going under. Their symmetrical – harmonious and beautiful proportion and balance, fighting each other only when necessary to their well-being; he had more than feelings for her. It had never been just about her being desirable, sexy beyond words. And maybe that was the main problem otherwise he'd never have been seeking other beds save for hers.

The months spent with Paula had disappeared and that distant memory of fiery red hair hiding his cock from view had come crashing hard on him. His mind and senses had been talking dirty about Donna in his office, in the bedroom or in the shower; wherever for the better part of the week. He didn't think this was funny. He didn't like it because it was his brain's way of dealing with feelings. Feelings he'd buried a long time ago. How to approach them was the most messed up and asymmetrical decision he ever had to make.

"Harvey," Donna barged into his office.

"What is it, Donna?" He sighed – he wasn't ready for an argument. Last night had been so nice. Another black dress – different pattern, sleeveless but no lace. He didn't need the laces, he didn't need the dance to get tangled up in her. For another moment away from her would pull him out of sanity.

"You really have to do something about this woman." She sounded exasperated.

"I take it you've met her;"

"Remember last night when I told you everything would be okay?" Of course he remembered. She had been slow dancing in his arms, his nose so close to her hair, breathing in that distinctive amber – or was it civet – scent his dad had joked drove a man wild because it made it impossible not to think about sex.

He never answered and she kept going. "Well I changed my mind. That woman is a freaking pain and potential earthquake."

If love had always been the answer than what was the question?

"Donna?"

"And don't you dare tell me I'm exaggerating."

He rose up from behind his desk and walked in her direction. "Donna?"

"I can hold my own but you have to delay senior partnership for as long as possible. Alex and Katrina should be your priorities."

He wanted to give her wild love, the kind that would never subside; he was done slowing the inevitable down. He wanted to take her higher just as high as his heart was in chest – trying to burst out of his body.

"Donna?" He was standing right in front of her.

"What?" She eyed him carefully – the interruption sounded unwanted.

"Do you want to go out…" He let the words trail, inducing error in her understanding.

"Sure, you want to have lunch at Le Bernardin?"

"We can go there if you want but that's not what I asked." He stepped closer and brushed his hand against hers.

"I know what you meant Harvey. But we've been over this." She truly was an amazing performer. But she seemed to think they were too good to live in love and risk their relationship.

Passion and reason coursed through his bloodstream, tearing at his guts to just flood her with everything he'd been holding inside.

"Have we?" His fingertips lingered against her knuckles.

"You said you wanted things to go back to normal between us."

"I've been known to keep things from you." He wanted nothing but to catch her off-guard and stroke her cheek. "What's holding you back? And don't tell me it's just me reacting to Mike leaving."

"I wasn't going to say that."

"Yes, you were." He tilted his head to the side. The bullshit wouldn't hold for long.

"Okay, I was going to say that. And then I'd bring up the fact that everything's changing around us." Her stare was filled with concern.

"I'm not looking for obstacles anymore. I want to go out with you."

"What if this," she gestured between them as if resetting their connection on a new level – a level they'd argued over and added, "isn't what you want?"

"I'm sure of who I want. The how, I've spent days thinking about and the what, I've had years to figure out. Now, I think I deserve some honesty on your part."

"Harvey…"

"I can't be the only one who wants this." He observed her posture: fidgety. She was nervous and uncertain. "Is this because of work then?"

"No."

"So this is more than that. You said you didn't feel anything, were you lying then?"

"Yes." She was staring anywhere but at him.

"Then you know that I chose you." He took one step closer.

"And you reminding me of that is what I'm going to get in return?" She took a step back.

"You kissed me, Donna. What did you think was going to happen?"

"I thought you'd reject me, Harvey and that I would know once and for all."

"So I take it you don't really know how you feel."

"And you do?"

Harvey brought his face close to hers. "Tell me…" He levelled his mouth to her slightly parted one and brushed his lips against hers. "Is this so wrong?" She closed her eyes instantly. Her lips were cold against his; probably from shock. He worked his way to warm them up. Feeling her breath, the rhythm of it against his mouth reminded him of the perfect taste she'd offered him a little over two week ago. Instead of running in circles, his mouth was doing the trick – bringing her back to compromise. Her lips remained immobile as he glided his tongue against teeth and flesh.

He engulfed her lips between his one last time, eliciting something between a moan and an urge as she breathed in, before pulling away slowly. He waited patiently, watching her eyes flutter open.

"I haven't said yes, Harvey."

"It's okay. At least now you know how I feel." His mind wasn't set on walking away.

Nobody could get him high the way she did when they touched. He wanted to get lost in sheets, enough to get lost in her; have her lose herself in him.

Her reaction stopped his brain, put his bloodstream on hold; he'd chased the skyline for so long he'd forgot what it was like to look at the Heaven-sent woman by his side. She stripped the skyscraper, concrete floors to highest ceiling – when she licked her lips.

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DGF

DGF

 **Here's the new fic! It's not Too Many Times for sure, hehe. ;) I hope you'll enjoy the difference. As usual, hit that review button if you like it and WANT MORE.**

 **Alternateshadesofblue is still my faithful and loyal *cough* servant, I mean friend on this little adventure. Thank you for your help, m'deer and that beautiful cover/poster/I don't know what it's called. Just to let you guys know, she came up with one of the best pieces of writing in this chapter simply because she's awesome. ;)**


	2. Chapter 2

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 **Don't Give in to that Feeling**

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II – Give my head a drink

"Tonight?" He felt the lump in her throat as if it were his, a knot he wanted to untie and leave undone at the same time. As if anticipation was a life choice, anxiety and excitement lost in the definition of them. Numb and choking when she wasn't around; discovering that feeling anew when she was.

He nodded, never breaking eye contact with her. "Tonight."

"Give me your phone." She extended her hand between them.

He cocked his head to the side and took it out of his pocket. "I have your number, you know?"

She yanked it from him and turned the screen on. "When do you want to…"

He enjoyed the surrealist scene before him. Donna Paulsen was at a loss for words. She usually finished sentences; it seemed his charms were operating and he couldn't feel happier. He'd done it before of course – he remember how he took her to Nougatine or when he brought her flowers for one of her show's closing night. But she'd never seemed this vulnerable. He didn't even remember her this vulnerable twelve years ago. "Meet me downstairs at 7. Is that okay for you?"

"Seven?" She shot him a wide look as if he were a delusional man. "That leaves me 5 hours to –"

"You don't need to change–"

She placed his phone against his torso. "You have _no idea_ ," she stressed, "what it's like to be a woman."

"No," he gently pulled her hand away and took his phone back. "But I want you not to overthink or analyze this."

"How do you expect me to…" she sighed and he felt transported by the way she set her teeth on edge. Annoyance couldn't look sexier. "Let me rephrase that, you have no idea what it's like to be _me_."

They were still close. He didn't think he could let her leave his office. "And you have no idea what it's like to be me, waiting for you to leave this office."

"You're thinking about kissing me again, is that it?" She parted her lips instinctively; she was opening up a door and it took all the might inside of him not to come inside and slam it shut behind them.

"I'll pick you up at seven," he took a step back, looking cocky. "Not seven o one, not seven o two…"

"Oh so now you don't trust me to be on time?" She raised a brow and all he wanted was to close that distance again.

"I was talking about me." He rubbed his neck.

"Right…"

He walked back to his desk and saw her leave from the corner of his eye. He pulled at his collar and – feeling reinvigorated with oxygen in his lungs, fresh air cooling off sweat, he walked back to the door again and watched her. She was walking the main corridor like a runway model, tall with curves, not proudly swaying her hips the way she usually did but it didn't matter because she'd said yes. She wasn't the only one who was afraid. He let out a breath held for too long and saw her bump into Louis.

He could tell he was questioning her about something; the questions seemed to turn into light accusations for a moment. And then as if on analytical overdrive – his usual self, really, Louis, tiptoed and circled around her like a transvestite ballerina and eventually narrowed his eyes toward him. He was marching his way.

"Oh shit," Harvey muttered and closed the door behind him.

Louis barged in a moment later. Harvey was sat behind his desk again, pretending to work.

"What's going on Louis?"

"What did you do to her?" The name partner was a man on a mission. He wondered how evasive Donna had been.

"She's fine, Louis." Harvey knew it wasn't a good sign when he used his name twice in a row. This could get ugly.

"I misread her glow. That never happens or maybe it did… sometimes. But that's not the point. The point is I asked her a bunch of questions but she had no sass!" Louis paused, arms up in the air. "She wasn't quick-witted and she said she had a thing that would lead to another thing and kept stumbling on her words. So let me repeat my question, what did you _do_?"

"Think of this way. If Donna didn't tell you, it means she wants to keep this private, right?" Harvey lay back in his chair.

"I'm following you so far." He looked unconvinced but allowed him to continue.

"Who would I be if I went behind her back?" His gaze dropped to his own knees.

"You know what Harvey? I don't care. You don't want to tell me either, that's fine. I just hope you didn't just make a big mistake because I've never seen her this way. And you've pulled a lot of shit with her in the past."

There was no point in angering him more. Years of struggle with Louis had taught him that what this man despised more than anything was to not feel included. So he took the best course of action possible. He told his friend the truth. "I asked her out on a date."

"You… Seriously?" Louis stood with mouth agape at the revelation.

"Yes."

"This is… this is…" Louis kept repeating and Harvey clasped his hands behind his head.

"Take your time, Louis."

"Did she say yes?" He blurted out.

"She did."

"This is Donna…" Louis rubbed his neck.

"Yes.

"What brought this up?"

"Louis…"

"Okay, fine. Don't tell me but seriously Harvey, are you sure about this?"

"Why is everyone asking me that? Of course I am," Harvey sat up straight again.

"And by everyone you mean her, am I right? Because you just told her so that means you didn't tell anybody else."

"What do you want me to say, Louis?"

"I want you to promise me that she isn't just a rebound."

"This is Donna!" As if saying that meant everything when it in fact just put him in a world of shit because he couldn't mess this up. This was it.

"Says the guy who screwed my sister and dozens more and never called them back." Louis was treading on a thin line.

"I regret the way I ended things with Esther, Louis. But Donna is…"

"Different, I know." Louis held his stare – annoyance and a hint of understanding in his eyes. "Harvey… Donna's not a woman you go out with. She's the woman you marry."

Harvey didn't have to digest this. It had been on his mind all along. Nevertheless, hearing it from Louis made it all the more real.

"If you hurt her, Harvey, God be my witness, I'll–"

"Stop it with your empty threats. I want this. She wants this. We're too fucking grown adults, here!" Harvey's patience was diminishing rapidly.

"You slept with her once –"

"How do you know that?" Harvey's words overlapped Louis's.

"And asked her to work for you the next day–" There could be no victor.

"She made that decision for me, Louis!"

"You should have said something then! Why now? Why not wait another year? Or another decade for that matter?"

"How do you _know_ she and I slept together?" Harvey walked up to Louis, fists all too ready.

"Because I was mad at the lot of you, lying to me about Mike, so I tested her friendship. I figured this was her deepest… secret."

"You had no right." His jaw twitched.

"Yes! I had no right!" He almost sounded ecstatic. "But this woman has always shown nothing but the deepest love for you."

"Why do you think I want to be with her?"

"Why did you wait until now?" Louis crossed his arms.

"Because I was afraid!" Harvey was the only one shouting.

"And aren't you afraid now?" Louis raised a brow.

He wanted all the things he'd toss at Louis to just bounce back at him and rip his heart out. Because the truth of the matter was that Louis was right. He was afraid. The adrenaline he'd been feeling was just the tip of the iceberg. He was like a captain aboard a ship, ready to set sail to anywhere with her. He'd celebrate their wedding himself, he'd make love to her in his cabin; and yet those sails could fold under a storm, wrapping them in a shroud. Sails, ship's wheel, cabin and sheets would be gone with the capsizing ship.

"Get out of my office," Harvey let out, sharply.

Louis nodded and turned to leave. But the financial advisor couldn't leave without speaking his mind apparently. "Make her happy, Harvey."

Harvey stared at the door for a moment. Anger subsided at the realization that Louis had just tested him, his resolve. He'd dug deep. His reaction spoke volumes – clenched fists, tensed up muscles and a reflection in the mirror he didn't want to see. He was right there, in the eye of the storm – crushing waves approaching slowly to drown them both.

Robert barged into his office. "I heard a shouting match? Is everything okay in here?"

Harvey gulped and averted his gaze – trying to hide the discomfort he felt in his eyes which were probably bloodshot at this point. "It's fine. What do you got for me?"

II

Harvey's response to Louis's accusations was to drown himself into work first and have a drink before the date, second. Meetings were over. He had a couple of files to look into but wasn't feeling like putting another hour into them.

He'd been eyeing the bottle of scotch on the console table for some time. His limbs felt numb. His head weighed a ton. He regretted being dependent on a feeling that was creeping up inside of him, tearing at his organs and breaking his heart in two. Anticipation had forsaken him while dread and looming fear had taken over. His office seemed so dark that the night sky couldn't act as a ticking clock anymore; it wasn't enough to remind him that he was supposed to be downstairs. He wanted to give his head at least two more drinks; enough to find some courage again.

He poured the glass and was about to drink it when he heard her come in: "Don't you dare, Harvey."

She sounded pissed. He turned around, glass in hand. He wanted to drop to his feet at the sight of her. She was wearing that sleeveless black dress with a plunging neckline she rarely wore these days. An undefiled dress he wanted to soil with his need. Yesterday's dress, today's dress and tomorrow's dress were part of his fantasy. And it had permeated through the years. He walked towards her and spilled some of his drink. "God, Donna, you look–"

"Don't." The warning was deaf to his ears.

"Beyond words…"

She shut her eyes briefly. "Put that drink away."

"Can't a gentleman get a boost before–"

"It doesn't look like it's your first boost tonight," she cut him off.

"You got me, it's my second glass." He gulped the whole thing and set in on the table.

She looked like she was fuming.

"You didn't have to come all the way up here; I was gonna join you in a minute."

"Harvey, it's almost 7:30."

"Shit." He slapped his hand on his head.

"And don't say you're sorry."

"But I am." He tried to bridge the gap between them but his honesty wasn't enough to prevent her from taking a step back.

"Why am I not surprised?" She huffed.

"You know I want you, Donna." He reached his hand out to her and she rejected it.

"Apparently you don't want me enough to do something as _stupid_ as taking me out," she let out.

"You were right!" The drunken look on his face was replaced by a complete state of defeat. "I don't know how I feel about this. I'm scared I'm gonna mess this up."

"You're unbelievable. You got me to open up and to agree to something I've been wanting for years." Catching hell, he felt her tirade strip him of his skin. "I bought new shoes that are killing me. You made me want to find the perfect dress and hope with freaking butterflies in my stomach all afternoon!" She was about to cry. "And now you're telling me you've lost your shit?"

"I'm an asshole," he admitted. It wasn't the booze. He'd made the decision not to.

"Yeah, you are!" Her piercing stare showed so much contempt that he didn't feel himself capable of holding it. "Every minute from this minute now Harvey are going to define the next steps in our relationship so I suggest you make a decision now."

"This is you and…"

"Wrong choice of words." She took her heels off and exited his office. He followed close behind her.

"Donna, wait!"

She didn't answer. He thought about grabbing her hand to stop her but noticed she was taking her earrings off. "Date's over Harvey – not that there was even one in the first place."

"It's because of Louis, I–"

She entered the bathroom and closed it in his face before he could finish. He sighed and opened the door slowly and locked it behind him. This was their conversation, he couldn't prevent people from eavesdropping but he didn't want anyone to barge in uninvited.

"You know there's practically no one left at this hour, right?"

"It's not even 8, Donna."

She'd placed her pair of shoes by the sink and was rifling through her purse.

"I don't care, Harvey!"

He watched her reflection in the mirror. She soaked a cotton pad with make-up remover. She started with her lipstick. "Then why bring it up?"

"Because I'm mad, Harvey," she let out. "Don't you get that?"

"I do." His face went numb and not the beauty of her, body bent over the sink, curves he'd only so much as glanced at could bring him back to the state of happiness he felt earlier that day.

"I should be married somewhere to some guy with children by now…" she sighed before proceeding to wipe more of her lipstick. "But no! My life's choice has been to _wait_ for you."

He fidgeted in his spot and hit one of the restroom doors with his foot.

"That's very mature." She was already soaking another cotton pad. She still had some lipstick left on the side of her mouth.

"I know I made the wrong choice tonight. I won't make it again." He stood with his back to the restroom door he'd just hit, chest heaving with the effort of suppressing the punches he knew he could pull; words she didn't deserve that would make him feel better.

She turned around and moved closer to him. "I need to use the restroom."

"Pick another one." With the high heels gone, she didn't look as bossy. The height difference did something to his masculine ego.

"I want this one. It's the one I always use."

"And you call me immature?" He crossed his arms.

"I guess we're both too immature to be in a relationship then."

His arms slipped free. "Donna, I made a mistake. I'm sorry."

"I need to use the restroom." The tears were almost there – forming in the corners of her eyes.

"No, you don't," he shook his head, never breaking eye-contact.

"Move out of my way." She held his stare.

Harvey didn't budge.

"Fuck you, Harvey." She headed for the bathroom door and unlocked it. He wanted to go after her, stop her from leaving. But she was right. He'd been acting like an idiot. He didn't even have the decency to leave her in peace. He closed his eyes – feeling the alcohol he'd drunk kick in. He would have fallen asleep in his office at some point hadn't she shown up. It was what he'd been looking for after all; mess things up and go back to wet-dreaming to the idea of her instead of going all in. One of them had to but he'd done a one eighty again.

He felt something pull him out of his thoughts like a hand yanking at the hem of his suit jacket, forcing him to bend down. His eyes burst open and he found her face closing in on him, her lips brushing the corner of his lightly, searching him. She pressed herself up against him and before he knew it, he was being kissed, hard and deep, with an urgency that made his body tremble. She had reached up and pulled him down to her. The hard cold door behind him felt like a mattress and she was asking for the weight of his body to be on top of hers. She was making him groan in her mouth. The need to taste her lips back, rubbing his tongue against hers resonated low in his throat. He grasped her fist, the one she'd knotted in his suit and circled his other arm around her waist. She'd stolen his breath only to give it back. And she felt wonderful.

* * *

DGF

DGF

 **And that was chapter 2! I hope you liked it. I guess I couldn't let go of the angst completely. Hit me with your reviews. I write for them and you know it. ;) If you haven't reviewed chapter 1, please don't hesitate to do so!**

 **I would like to thank my wonderful friend, the beta to my alpha-self (who can't write Intersextion because of me *cough*) Alternateshadesofblue. You owe me two reviews by the way! 3**


	3. Chapter 3

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 **Don't Give in to that Feeling**

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III – I found shelter, in this way

Harvey cupped her cheeks and backed her up against the sink. Engaged in kissing her fervently some more, he felt himself locked in a haze, altered by her. He lost up the frown left by an hour of fucked-up drinking, finally invigorated by something other than his tumultuous brain. He traced the lines of her body beneath the confines of her clothes with his palms and lifted her up swiftly.

She responded to his intrusive mouth by deepening her kiss, her tongue tangling and the pressure of his hips between her legs accompanying the instinctive rotation of his pelvis. His groin region grinding against hers, he wondered just how her dress got hiked up. A barrier had been broken no matter how dressed they were. Intrusive, he definitely was as he went to kiss her temples, cheek and neck. Feeling the pulse of her throat, hearing high-pitched and raspy moans he only heard in dreams – made him feel more breathless, erratic and uneven than the kisses he was administering.

Driven to kiss her wild and everywhere, he noticed how she soothed his passion by running a hand through his hair, slowing him down. Parted lips against his temple, leaving sweet attentions quieted his aching body. He'd caught up enough; he was certain of it. His mouth set on her stained lips again; trimming, zooming in and out on them as if he were a spectator and prolonging the frames of intense sexual desire this time. But he was one of the two main characters in this and he could feel it all; feel how his own saliva was washing away the smeared lipstick of before as he swallowed his sadness and devoured her love. This wasn't some paroxystic event, there was no abrupt onset nor equal sudden return to normal activity; this was an uncontrollable fever.

On fire for him so clearly, he could swear Donna was wetting his grey pants. He was so hard that it could just as easily have been him, rubbing himself this way against her covered and very likely distraught core. He'd never been with another redhead. Even Paula's freckles were somehow a substitute to the real thing. He knew so. Rapidly turning the bathroom into a bedroom Harvey couldn't bring himself to break the kiss. Donna made him feel weak. Weak for everything her: exposed skin, perfume. That scent of a woman, auburn-flavored hair touching his nostrils, some of them stuck in the corner of his mouth and remnants of mint toothpaste detected by his buds to cool his desire. He hoped his own taste – the scotch he'd dared mop up his mouth with wasn't inconveniencing her.

"Are… you… okay?" Angled intervals were enough to not absorb his words completely.

"Yeah…" She broke the kiss and panted, resting her forehead on his. "We're okay." That wasn't what he'd asked but it felt good to hear. Why did she always have to be one step ahead of him? Maybe that was all right. "Aside from the fact that I unlocked the door…"

And sometimes he wished she wasn't.

"Right," he laughed. He tilted his head back and arched a brow. "So…"

"So…" she said, wrapping her arms around his neck again. He didn't say anything for he was too lost in her chestnut eyes to do so anyway. "Can you give me a minute to myself… to freshen up and put those shoes back on?"

"I don't feel like leaving this room."

"You will have to Mister since, as it happens, you still owe me a date." She quirked a brow too.

"I fold," he nodded, disentangling himself from her and helped her straighten her dress as her feet hit the cool tiles on the ground.

He took a look at the state of his pants awkwardly. She eyed him carefully and he could tell she was biting the inside of her cheek. "Save it."

"I didn't say anything, I was just ogling."

"Very funny! Want to do a comparative study?"

"I don't need to."

He gulped.

"But you, having to take a look and feeling so self-conscious about yourself is sexy." The sultry look she gave him told him he should just close that damn door and discard having to broker a deal on that unfinished business right here, right now.

"I don't suppose you have any spare pants?" She was outwardly making fun of him. And it made him feel even stiffer in his pants. He wanted to pound that grin off her face and have her moan between parted lips instead.

"I don't have accidents."

"I hope this wasn't an accident."

"Are we still talking about what just happened? The kiss or just us going out?"

"So you figured out where you want to take me?"

"Like I said... Right now? I just don't want to leave this room."

She rolled her eyes at him. "Let me take care of this."

She grabbed the hems of his suit jacket with authority and removed it from him,

"Donna… what are you–"

She folded the fabric and handed it back to him. "Cover your accident with this and hold it close. No one will know."

"I could have done that myself, you know?" He did as he was told.

"But then I wouldn't have been able to touch you one last time…" She wrapped her arms around his neck again. "Or do this." She kissed him slowly and subsequently laughed against his mouth. "With you tied to your pants."

He smirked; she was infinitely captivating, her witty repartee and that playful banter coexisting in reassurance that everything was okay. But he had screwed up big time tonight and she had been the one reminding him that he was allowed to. He had fooled her once on more occasions that he could count. Tonight was strike two. He wished she would never grant him a third chance. He regained a serious posture, making it a point that what he was about to say wasn't superfluous. "I want to make it up to you."

"We're going to my place Harvey."

This was definitely not what he had in mind. "I don't want you to cook me dinner, Donna!"

"I'm not." She placed a hand in his pocket and took out his phone and handed it to him. "You're going to walk out of here, change at yours, order take out at some fancy restaurant and be at my place at 9, okay?"

He felt more than okay.

III

He'd taken a quick shower, changed into a black long-sleeve t-shirt and traded his jacket for a long coat. With a bottle of some expensive French chateau in his hand and take out in a brown paper bag, he entered her apartment building at 9pm sharp.

He walked up the stairs and reached her floor. The 206 front door was partially open. His heart leaped out of his body. He immediately rushed inside, dropping the bag and the bottle of wine in the entryway leading to her living room.

"Donna?" he called after. He saw her standing, back against the kitchen wall with her phone in her hand. She was shaking and staring at the carpeted floor beneath her.

He slowly put a hand to her cheek, trying to make her look at him. "Donna, it's me."

"Harvey… he…" She was breathing heavily. He didn't want to ask her what had happened yet. Analyzing the situation was his priority even though he'd never reach her level of expertise. He didn't know if she was hurt. She didn't seem to be but that wasn't going to stop him from asking.

"What happened? Are you hurt?"

"It's my mother. She called..." She looked at Harvey, tears forming in her eyes. She was in a complete state of shock, holding on to her phone. Her mother rarely called. The crying, the redness under her eyes, everything pointed out to one thing. "Harvey… my…"

"It's your father, isn't it?" Harvey thought he'd said it too loud – too fast for comfort.

She nodded. "He's gone."

He felt tongue tied, watching the floor and then staring back at her. He licked his lips as if trying to find the courage to pull himself out from inside – unfolding the pain he felt about losing his own father to understand hers. "I'm sorry, Donna."

Empathy couldn't be enough. He wanted to be her shelter, make the events of today either disappear, make his inability to do things right go away. He took the phone from her and then grasped her hand to lead her to the couch. "Let's go sit, okay?"

She accepted his hand and followed him to the couch. "I'm… leaving tomorrow for Cortland. I hope it's okay." He didn't know if she was in denial but he wasn't going to pressure her into shedding more tears.

"I'm going to drive you there," he stated matter-of-factly.

"Harvey, you don't–"

"When's the funeral?"

"In two days." She wiped tears off her face. "This is a four-hour-drive at least."

"I don't care. I'm coming with you." He ran a hand through her hair and settled on her cheek. The contact made her shiver; this had her reach for his hand instinctively. He stroked the corner of her lip with his thumb, trying to soothe away the pain she felt.

"You should go home, Harvey." She gently moved his hand away and placed both her hands on her lap. She was secluding herself again; retreating to her own bubble. Was she feeling empty inside? Was she feeling like her entire world had crumbled down upon her? It wasn't his place to try and feel what she felt. He realized she probably didn't want him on this level anyway. Besides, he'd already felt it a few years ago. And she'd been with him, comforting him.

"Well," he began, rising up from the couch, "maybe I should." He walked to the entryway and picked up the bag and bottle of wine. "But I don't want to."

He watched her from the corner of his eyes. She was staring aimlessly at the large photographs that were hung on the opposite wall. The biggest photograph was her favorite. She was sat at her old piano with her dad. He understood that her mother had taken this picture. It was taken a couple of years before they had to get rid of it; and then move to another, smaller house in Cortland.

He placed the bag and bottle on the dinner table. "I think you should eat something. Maybe have a drink; I know I had one when–"

"This isn't some fucking celebration, Harvey. My dad just died!" The words left her mouth in a beast-like roar and he was her prey.

She wasn't thinking clearly. How could she? "Okay…" He was thinking his next words carefully as he folded and placed his coat atop the back of a chair.

"I'm not hungry. And I don't want to talk about it." She rose up suddenly and walked over to him. "Actually, I don't want to talk about anything. I know you're trying to help me, telling me about your dad is a good idea but it's not what I want right now."

"Then tell me what you want, Donna?" He knew his eyes must have looked like the saddest sight. She couldn't grasp the fear in them for she was very likely too lost in her own anger, very likely feeling hopeless.

"I could tell you I just want to be alone but that's not true. I could just as easily ask you to get back to where we were an hour ago and make me forget." She was standing so close to him, cornering him against the wall that separated the kitchen from the living room. If she asked, he didn't think he'd be able to refuse her indecent proposal. Making her forget was one thing but making her his, reminding her that he wanted nothing but to be with her was the kind of connection he selfishly felt she deserved. Wanting to have her lose herself with him reminded him of how much of an asshole he was. She knew him better than anyone else but she'd taken one thing out of this equation. He cared more about her than she did right now; for all her focus was on her deceased parent and her resolve had to do with deadening the pain. This wasn't her going through grief. This was her testing his resolve to stay and there were so many ways for him to cave. One thing was certain. She didn't want this. Not really. And he knew her coming on to him was her way of making him leave.

"We're more than just that, Donna."

"Really?" She kissed his lower lip. He remained still; never closing his eyes even though the temptation was making him feel all too good inside. He wanted to cry for her. Remind her that this wasn't the way to make him leave. He was here; for her. This was all an act. A complicated situation that enticed rejection with a promise and a forbidden memory of them all the same – and in both cases, it would hurt her.

She placed her hands on each side of his waist. "I just want to forget that I'm wearing this dress." He darted his eyes to the ceiling when he felt her kiss the junction of his neck and jaw. She grabbed the hem of his shirt with each hand. She ran one of her hand under the black piece of clothing, fingertips caressing his navel area. He felt his abs tense up at the touch.

He wanted to kill his fantasy; kill the fantasy of her doing things she wasn't supposed to be doing. Not now; not when she was seeking control as everything around her had collapsed. Seeking him by possibly removing his shirt, careful over his upper arm and shoulder and letting her vulnerability slip away. As he felt her trail kisses close to his collarbone, he pictured her squatting down to his groin level and unbuckle his belt. His eyes rolled at the back of his head, imagining her yanking it away even though it was her soft wet lips he felt cooling down his lips.

And then she would drag his zipper down and take care of the rest. He would feel exposed – with a hint of pride, watching her stare just a moment too long at the hard-on she hadn't seen in years. As soon as he felt her nails scrape ever so slightly against his skin, he caved.

"Stop." He watched her leave his neck. She averted her eyes again and let go of his shirt.

"I'm not leaving, Donna. So if you want to get rid of that dress, just do it. If you don't want to eat, that's fine. But tomorrow, you and I are going to Cortland. Just stop playing with my feelings for you to forget your own."

Rage trickled from her eyes. If eyes could roar, he would have heard them. "I don't want you to see me like this. Can't you understand that?" The look in her eyes – between an accusation and a plea – wasn't some kind of revelation to him. Everything that had led up to this had to do with his very presence in her apartment; touching on her personal space, forcing himself within the confines of her personal space. How do you date someone you've been in love with for so many years? The answer was simple. You don't.

Too much baggage regarding one another; the insecurities of before enhanced times infinity with their newfound status. He could see it in her eyes. The tears had not so much to do with her dad anymore and everything to do with them. Him being here, wanting to be close to her.

"When I lost my dad, you were Donna." He sighed. He refrained from touching her. "Let me be Harvey, the one you trust to help you get through this."

"Are you saying I'm afraid of being with you now?"

"All I'm saying is that you can't deal with us like this right now. So don't. Just trust me to be here for you."

"Like when you got drunk earlier?"

He shut his eyes and clenched his fists; he knew she wanted to push him away and make him feel just as awful as she did. The virulence of her words should have driven him mad and made him want to just leave her and her pathetic reasoning behind. But she was hurting; the kind of hurt that would feel beyond repair for a while.

She loved her dad just as much as he loved his. This wasn't the time or the place to act like a fool and remind her of how grief made people do stupid things. No matter how scared he was at the thought of losing her, his drinking – at the prospect of going on that date – wasn't of any importance either. He breathed in deeply to make it a point that he would stay put.

"Of course, poor little Donna just lost her dad. She can't hear whatever's on Harvey's goddamn mind," she scoffed, moved away from him towards the bedroom. "You want to stay? Fine…"

He followed after her, taking tentative steps as he observed her open the door. This was the door which led to the last and in fact, only place where he'd ever seen her naked. He didn't think he'd ever seen her this bare – power dress, remnants of dolled-up hair and make-up and sass erased from herself. The arrogant, selfish and raw part of him always hoped he were her everything. Jessica had warned him about this. They were as close as two people could be without being together. But he couldn't replace a father and he certainly didn't want to. She had to know that, right? "Donna–"

"I'm going to bed." She slammed the door shut behind her since cutting her name and his thoughts off didn't seem to be enough for her. He never got that one last look and it wrecked him.

III

Harvey drank half of that bottle of wine. This was a good wine; tipsy enough to feel the alcohol heat his body. It took every fiber of his being not to burst that door open and take her in his arms. But her need to find solace – even if she had to be alone, was superior to his savior-like complex. Sweat dripped out of his pores with every small cry he could hear from her side of the apartment. They were in sync, him trying to find atonement through that bottle instead of her while she, wrestled with loss.

He noticed there was a blanket on the couch. It would have to do for tonight even though the he wouldn't need it, the flush from his drinking made the prospect of additional layers unnecessary.

He'd made a promise to her. The thought of going home hadn't crossed his mind yet. He turned the lights off before moving to the large grey piece of furniture, he took his shoes and socks off. He unbuckled his belt and opened the button of his pants to ease the alcohol-filled pressure on his stomach. He took his shirt off and settled on the couch. He didn't feel drunk enough to sleep. He placed an arm behind his head for support, the weight of his head heavier than a cannonball. Could he make it better? Maybe she was trying to muffle whimpers; tears were probably done burning her eyes by then, numbing her entire face instead. Maybe she'd stopped crying. Maybe he was sick thinking it more painful not seeing her than actually witnessing her crying fit.

He closed his eyes and thought about her. She was seeking comfort from everyone else in her life but him; from her mother whom she rarely saw to Louis. This version of Louis was telling him he was unfit to be with her – that he was incapable of taking care of her, unwilling to see the truth: she didn't belong to him and he'd been toying with her feelings for too long. But then his thoughts reached that dream-like state again in which he would get to see her at work, kicking ass and then disrobe for him at night. He was the knight in shining armor that'd made her see a future in this world. For everyone left in the end. But they had time. And he wanted nothing but for her to be more than just the present. He wanted the dream to turn into their future and just be – as they were, as they are and as they can – until death.

He woke up to the sound of the door creaking open. His eyes shot open in the dead of night. He thought the lack of light should have inconvenienced her. But of course, here being her apartment couldn't have made finding him an issue. Maybe she hadn't expected anything else from him. Maybe she did trust him enough. He felt her sit on the couch by his side. He felt her touch his face and grasped it gently. He trailed his grip over the soft skin of her arm, from the outside in, his hand brushing ever so lightly against her covered breast. He realized she was wearing a tank top as he reached one of the straps. He noticed how it wasn't covering her shoulder and adjusted the thin fabric close to her collarbone.

She heaved a sigh and whispered: "I'm sorry, Harvey." He made some space for her and pulled her towards him, letting half of her body lay on top of him. She placed one of her arms against his chest and he closed his fist against her hand. He felt her head explore the comfort of his chest, wet eyes and lips roaming freely against his skin as she nestled against him. He hesitated moving the arm that was supporting his head; touching her more, wrapping his arm against her frame but didn't for she had found shelter outside the covers of her bed.

He closed his eyes and whispered against her temple. "I'm sorry too."

He was another man and yet, just not any. His heart broke at the thought that he was the most familiar one in her life and yet he'd never been able to tell her how much she meant to him. He wasn't half the man Jim Paulsen was when it came to knowing how to love Donna. But she seemed to think he was the only man who could replace – even for just a moment – the one she would miss for years to come.

* * *

DGF

DGF

And that was chapter 3! I hope you enjoyed it. Thanks to all of those who answered the Twitter poll. I really struggled with this chapter and I tried three different directions. But I think this one is the most interesting take I could go with. **This isn't going to be a very long fic but hopefully it'll be intense. :) So please review and let me know what you think, how you feel etc. I'll start chapter 4 soon, it won't take me as much time as this chapter did though.**

 **I'd like to thank my precious friend and beta Alternateshadesofblue. I can't wait to maintain our burgeoning co-writing experience with more crazy chapters and insane ideas.** **I wouldn't have been able to write this chapter without you.** I'm sorry I had to prevent you from enjoying the Twitter mania for a moment. I am forever thankful that you allow my writing to grow on its own. Darvey is so on, woman! And even if it isn't, oh well, tonight we got a new smitten look from Harvey, teehee!


	4. Chapter 4

================================VV================================

Don't Give in to that Feeling

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IV – Put your blood on ice

He didn't think she could get his heart racing more. He had been awake for the better part of half an hour. She was barely wearing anything. He felt it all night: skin against skin. She had donned all the items of clothing he'd felt under his fingers; a tank top and small shorts. Soft and warm in his arms, there was a singular truth in their shared tasks. He had been the source of comfort and she the blanket, enabling his radiating heat no escape. Her closeness couldn't keep the fireworks inside of him at bay now. Her breath tickled the few chest hair between his pecs, the right side of her face having had all night to dry against him. If he had let go of her, he didn't know for his arms were still encircling her frame. Even if he had, he'd put them right where they belonged somehow. There was nothing wrong with sleeping beside her – he didn't feel uncomfortable and despite an incongruous sex-drive, it just felt right; and straight out from underneath it all – her sorrow, her being sorry for him and back to just flat out angry – she'd come to the same conclusion. She'd needed him.

There was no point in pretending to feel hazy about last night's events. As much as he wanted to stroke every bit of skin he came across, run his fingers through her hair and carry with them the words he didn't want to speak, he had to stop staring and continue dreaming of her face a little while longer. Her dad had died and the date that should have been was a vague memory. There wouldn't be a tomorrow without her now. And there certainly wouldn't be a funeral without him by her side. He'd hoped for something to bring her back to him – and in a way, him to her. To establish that connection he thought had been lost, anything and, staring at the ceiling he realized it should have been that date. A date he'd been so dead-set on, he'd forgotten his own insecurities for a moment only to have them tumble hard in the wake of Louis's warning.

Like on a big town avenue, he wanted nothing but to run into it, arms opened; break out of his shell, feeling the outside air energize every limb, every step and tell her he loved her. He shifted his eyes back to her face; he might have jolted slightly hadn't he sensed her shift in his arms. The look in her eyes told him she remembered; she was peeling away thoughts – jittery orbs trying to get him figured out. She was probably tossing out everything about her father to find something to hold on to in his. He had to be more than himself for her. There was no other way.

"I'm going to make you some coffee and then I'm going home."

"I understand," she averted her eyes from him.

Why was he always going about things the wrong way?

He captured her jaw and began stroking it, silently asking her to look back at him. "I'm going to Cortland with you. I just need to pack my things and get my car."

"I thought you'd changed your mind – not that I wouldn't under–"

"I would never do that."

She was touching his chest some more, running her fingers through his soft hair. He gulped at the price he was paying for the sweetest and most affectionate touch there could be. She looked too desirable like this, too sexy despite the redness under her eyes; pale, fragile and in need of comfort he – as a member of the opposite sex – could still provide for her. He had to get off this couch, his want becoming too expressive.

"You've got to help me out, here." He grimaced jokingly. "I have to pee and get ready."

She instinctively eyed his pants. Her eyes darted back to his within a second. She'd figured it out. He could tell her blank face was the best way to cover up her embarrassment. "Maybe I should make coffee."

"Maybe," he smiled.

She was about to move off him when he heard her say: "Thank you."

"For what?" He knew why but his restless heart would settle for anything involving her voice.

Or her lips. The magic they conveyed soaked the corner of his mouth with a quick peck, soothing his decision-making attitude.

"You know…" she shrugged, "being the best version of you for me."

She got off the couch and checked the clock on her TV set. Harvey followed her stare: 10:30am. He quickly followed after her. "Donna…"

She turned around. He had her full attention again. "I don't mind if you think this is all because of your dad. Maybe it is but…"

"It's okay, Harvey. Whatever you're doing it's working, can you keep doing that?"

"You mean making you forget about your dad?"

"Yes."

"You don't want to stop thinking about him, Donna."

"The bathroom's free," she gestured for him to go. "I'll call my mom and tell her we should arrive in the evening."

IV

There was no point in trying to change her mind. He simply nodded and walked to the bathroom. He closed the door behind him and took a deep breath. He remembered that open Italian shower of hers. If there was one thing about her apartment he enjoyed beside her bedroom, it was the bathroom. She'd given him her blueprints and had even helped him remodel his own bathroom. Of course everything about it had been made larger and in accordance with the size of the room as well as his architectural digest eccentricities. But hers was just as nice as he remembered it – that feminine touch, that interior fragrance leaving a delicate musk scent in the air; it was all too dizzying. He turned the spray on. He took his pants off and then looked at his boxers, his erection tenting the cotton undergarment. He couldn't help it anymore. He placed his fingers around the lines of his penis beneath the fabric and stroked the well-established length. Hidden in this richness and harmony of visual – towels, toothbrush and cupboards he'd rather not look through – and olfactory memories of her everyday presence in this very bathroom, was a man. A man who was thinking about a beautiful woman; he slid his hand into the front opening and gripped his erection, stroking the sensitive underside.

What was he doing? He couldn't believe it. Was it just another way of not thinking? Not thinking about her loss? Her own pain? Was he such a screw up that this was all he wanted to feel right now? He was about to toy with his testicles when he simply let go of his shaft and took the only remaining piece of clothing off. He walked under the shower spray and feeling his member pulsating for release, he parted his legs to each side and used one of his hands for support against the tile wall. Stroking himself vigorously, he closed his eyes, feeling the water submerge him, enwrapping him in tantalizing imagination. She, teasing him with her black-painted nails, pleasuring him harder and harder until the very rhythm and intensity of it all could hurt. The pain of not having her by his side, the pain of taking care of a business he felt guilty of while soothing surroundings and the image of her were effectively pleasuring him.

His ass tightened and he moaned accelerating the speed of his fist. The velocity with which he stroked matched the shakiness of his legs. As the ache built inside of him, droplets of water seemed to act as another catalyst, resembling the feeling of her caressing his skin. He tilted his head back and tried to catch a deeper breath as water fell to his parted lips like the light touch of a kiss, particles pouring into his mouth, and the shadow of her tongue materializing against his buds. He stifled a small cry as he came; back arching, body and legs quivering before setting into an afterglow of small limited strokes. The sound of thirteen year old moans getting mixed up with those he'd elicited in her the night before. Everything seemed louder, more intense, he smelled the fragrance, heard the shower spray – a sweet synesthesia of stars and rainbows were washing over the melody of an image, him and her getting lost in each other. It was all in his head but as her name fell from his lips, he realized he hadn't been thinking of anyone but her. He panted for breath, trying to even his inhales and exhales, tracing his fingers and palm against the warm tiles.

And then he felt himself drift into another kind of reality for he heard the bathroom door being closed behind him.

He noticed she'd placed some soap and a towel for him by the sink. He heaved a sigh and closed his eyes. This would be awkward to deal with. He exited the shower and went to pick up the soap. He let it fall from his hand as he realized the door was being burst open.

He covered his junk with both hands. He could tell describing surprise in his eyes would seem like an understatement.

"Can you be quick, please?" She sounded pissed but her eyes betrayed her, roaming over his upper-body.

"Whatever you saw, Donna…"

She closed her eyes and flapped her arms. "I don't care about what I saw. You need to hurry, Harvey. My mom expected I'd already be on my way. You should have woken me up sooner."

"I didn't think about setting an alarm, Donna! You and I weren't exactly on good terms until you decided you needed me."

"Fine… Just, rinse my tiles and hurry up! Coffee's ready."

"Donna," he grabbed her hand, bringing her closer to him.

His soaked skin tainted her clothes and he could feel hardened nipples against his chest. The front of the hand still covering his crotch grazed against her waist.

"Harvey, you're all wet!"

He gulped for all the right reasons and the most inappropriate feelings. "I'm sorry about–"

"No, you wouldn't change a single thing about what just happened, Harvey because you know I saw you."

"And you saw the state I was in when we were on the couch!"

"And you should have thought of asking for a towel and soap beforehand!"

"Couldn't you have knocked?"

"I didn't think you'd hear me because of the shower running."

"You knew what you would see."

"I panicked Harvey." She lowered her eyes.

"You were horny as fuck last night." He tilted his head, leaned into her and asked, lowering his voice. "Did you like what you saw?"

He left her aghast to say the least. She darted her eyes to him. He asked the dreaded question which had been on his mind for the better part of five minutes: "Did you see most of it?"

"Just because I did doesn't mean I'm–"

"I know, I know." He stroked her back gently. "I just don't want you to think I'm some–"

"Asshole who just jerked off in my bathroom?" She raised a brow and smirked.

"I know this wasn't the time or the place–"

"Don't give me some excuse about me grieving over my dad because this had nothing to do with him and we both know it."

"I won't lie to you, I want you."

She sighed, staring at his lips.

"And it's been more intense since I broke up with Paula; ever since you kissed me actually."

Donna was clearly assessing everything about him and judging him at the same time. Taking this in wouldn't be easy for her and he knew it. She sighed again, left his arms and stepped out of the bathroom. She turned around before closing the door.

"You know! It's one thing to know you… but it's another to hear you say my name. It makes it even more real and that scares the shit out of me. I just lost my dad, Harvey and I can't… lose you."

She sighed not giving him enough time to answer that she'd closed the door in his face.

IV

He finished his shower and used the lavender scented soap on his body. As he washed his hair, he marveled at the shampoo scent she regularly used. He loved that perfume. Once he was done, he dried his hair, switching the towel to his upper and lower body and then wrapped it around his waist.

He picked up his briefs and pants before opening the door. He noticed the door to her bedroom was half-opened. He could hear her cry. Maybe she was sending him a message. Maybe she was seeking that comfort after all. Maybe she wasn't. He didn't hesitate. He didn't care. He pushed the door to this place of forbidden memories once and for all. She was sitting on the edge of her bed. It seemed she was packing her suitcase. She noticed him, wiped tears off her face with the back of her hand and sniffled.

"Harvey, I'm… I'm done packing. There's coffee for you in the kitchen."

She'd already said that. Confused. Repetitive. He remembered the blank spaces that had formed in his head when his dad died. He would get lost and then get found again by her presence. It was a state of mind where you wished your own lifeline became dispensable in order to bring back the one you love to the land of the living. And then you end up reaching different stages: you need to cut that loss down to size because you're not dominating your feelings anymore and this might be the only way you can. Loss makes you realize all the things you should have paid more attention to but didn't. She was being swallowed by guilt, the guilt of living her life; blaming herself for having sought independence and missing that random opportunity to say goodbye. A twisted logic and a never-ending cycle you always brought upon yourself because there was nothing more to be done other than apologize to the dead.

"I'm okay, Harvey, you can go. I'll wait for you."

The furniture hadn't changed. Staring at the ambiguous room stirred up memories of her crying out his name as well as unfamiliar images of her screaming out the names of others. He'd waited all these years to figure out that it bothered him. Not so much figuring out than flat out admit it. No reason to stay and wait on this threshold – this platform of souvenirs with pictures of her and her dad, filled with objects of her past, her childhood and her teenage years; so what was he waiting for? He didn't give it a second thought, rushed to her and pulled her into his arms. She trembled and sobbed until he drew her deeper and deeper. He understood how warm and hard he must have felt against her. He soothed her back, her curves nothing more than a distant desire and her heart the only thing he wanted to put on ice. Save it from agony and transplant it back once all of this was over. All he ever wanted was to give her love and live in perfect symmetry. He would get her heart to beat and go 'thump' against her chest wall again. Not sorry to get that blood flow through the chambers for reasons that didn't involve the hurt of losing a loved one. They stayed like this for a moment. Dragging her to him knowing this probably felt overly dominant to her, maybe sexual. This had spiked a level of excitement into him that had surely sparked her attention. Nevertheless, he would put his own blood on ice for her, stopping his want in its course. He felt her erratic breathing subside. For her he'd wait until his days were done. He was sure of it, in her tears, in her flood and that fire in her breath, tickling his neck, the strength of her arms circling him. She wouldn't let go as long as he didn't.

"You should take that shower."

"Okay." She loosened her grip on him, fingers running down his neck, tracing his collarbone and reaching his hard chest. Feeling her fingertips and nails that way made him want to erase time, circumvent the feelings of love and loss and invite nothing but lust in. He couldn't help letting his hands trail down to her waist, holding her in place – neither too far, nor too close from him.

"I have to get dressed now."

This was an affirmation and yet the last thing he wanted to do.

He closed the door behind him as he walked back into the living room, leaving her some much needed privacy. He quickly got dressed, not bothering with the cufflinks or his tie and poured himself a cup of coffee. She'd forgotten the vanilla. She never did. Whatever the underlying meaning, it would have to wait. He saw her walk to the bathroom and said he would be in back in less than an hour. She looked like a white shadow, so pale her freckles seemed to have disappeared.

"Hey," he called after. She was standing in front of the bathroom door.

He cupped her cheek and caressed it gently. "I'll be back before you know it."

"This isn't how I wanted you and I to…" She wasn't able to finish, averting her eyes to signal just how much she must have despised her own words. "I'm a mess, Harvey."

"I'm not here to fix you, Donna." He licked his lips. "You don't need fixing. You need your dad, right here, right now in front of you, telling you that everything's going to be okay."

She swallowed her lips. He could sense she was holding back tears and he had no intention of telling her he could be that knight in shining armor for her.

"There are people you will never be able to replace. But I promise you that it gets better."

"I know, Harvey."

"But you don't have to be alone in this. I want to be there for you. And I hope that message gets to your head." She nodded in appreciation. He relaxed a little and smirked. "And if it doesn't, I have another one."

She stared him in the eye, firmly set between a sob and a laugh, "And what would that message be?"

"You seeing my naked ass is exactly how I imagined our first morning together."

* * *

DGITTF

DGITTF

 **And here's chapter 4! Sorry for the long wait, health can be a Queen B. But you love that b****. I hope you like it. I'm sort of taking my time here.**

 **Hoping for reviews but I can't promise you I'm going to write faster this time around but I promise you I'll finish this fic, that's for sure. So I hope you'll review this chapter anyway.**

To my beta, alternateshadesofblue, I'll just quote this:

"Tis in my memory lock'd,  
And you yourself shall keep the key of it."  
― William Shakespeare, Hamlet

Intriguing, right? Well that's because SHE keeps saying:"Please don't embarrass me in your author's note and just say something simple like 'I'd like to thank my friend and writing partner for her incredible help.'"

Me: "But... but...but... GIVE ME THAT KEY BACK!"

Oh Blue, here's another one for you:

"Picasso had his pink period and his blue period. I am in my blonde period right now." Hugh Hefner


	5. Chapter 5

================================VV================================

Don't Give in to that Feeling

================================VV================================

V – All is quiet with a sleight of hand

Harvey pulled over in front of her building and texted her to come down. Sunglasses secured in the glove compartment of his emerald green Ford Mustang; just in case. He'd packed his suitcase with the suit he'd worn at his dad's funeral, some casual clothes and toiletries – no need for anyone to supply anything for him save for the woman he was about to drive to her hometown.

He saw her walk out of the building and immediately exited the car to get her suitcase.

"Let me take care of this for you." He grabbed the handle and opened the trunk.

"Thanks." She stood by his side, observing him.

"Been a long time since you've seen me without a suit." He placed the suitcase next to his and closed the trunk.

"I like your casual look."

He gave her a small smile and went to open the passenger door for her. "And I like you, whatever you're wearing."

"Now, you're going to make me feel bad for saying that." She sat in the passenger seat and fastened her seatbelt.

He lingered on her tight jeans and traced the contours of her black V-neck knit t-shirt, stopping at the few buttons left open that revealed just enough of her bewitching womanhood – classy, sensual and real. He could see the white cotton lace bra with each breasts sitting lower than they would have been nestled in a Wonderbra, less close together and perfectly molded to his appreciation. He noticed her staring at him but he didn't care; he squatted down to her level.

He'd seen the chain that descended under the knitted fabric covering the spot his eyes had been coveting for so long. He placed his fingertips near her collarbone, grasped the pendant and looked her in the eye.

"Not that I don't enjoy the weight of your stare but people passing by might get the wrong idea, Harvey." She hadn't said anything about his fingers grazing her pulsating throat though.

"What happens on the sidewalk is none of my concern. But what you're wearing is. I've never seen this." He pulled out her chain set slowly. He felt her shiver beneath his fingertips.

"Jeez and me who thought you were just staring at my forty plus year old boobs." She rolled her eyes and took the pendant from his hand.

"How could I not? My eyes have been ogling that path for years."

"Like I hadn't noticed," she smiled softly.

"Except this time I'm intrigued." He took a closer look at the luminous pearls set along the Gold chain end in gold leaflets and precious leaves threaded through the other end. Dangling off its edge was a smaller pearl. "Did your dad give you this?"

She nodded and held the pendant tightly in her fist. "Yes."

"It's gorgeous," he moved forward and kissed her cheek, his palm lingering on the hand she'd used to clutch the pendant. "It's the little things that matter."

He was about to pull away when she caught his left wrist. "Or that give you away."

He was so far away from believing in God or another life. But she was making him so; she knew he didn't wear his dad's watch often. He hadn't realized this could mean so much to her. "Sometimes the words you cannot say or the things you wear are better than prayers."

She let go of his hand in sweet caress and he closed the passenger door. He moved around the car and sat on the driver's seat. As he fastened his own seatbelt, he noticed her ruffling through her bag. She took out a cassette adapter with a small cord that was plugged to her smartphone. She placed the cassette in the old cassette deck.

He turned the engine on. "Should I be scared of your playlist?"

"Sometimes music is enough to make you feel closer to someone." She'd used his own words. It made him feel uneasy for a moment, not liking she didn't trust he'd let her have this.

"As long as you don't empty out the air in the car habitat," he shrugged, trying to alleviate the mood.

"I can always take the train." He noticed U2's album cover of The Best of 1980-1990 on her music app.

He engaged the first gear. "And kill those passengers' ears? I can't let that happen."

"You know I have great taste." She pressed play.

They listened to the introductory notes of the first track.

"Why U2?" He started banging his head to the frantic guitar riff.

"Why not?" She placed her hand on his lap.

Small talk to bring up her dad in a more obvious manner wouldn't take. It was probably too soon anyway. So he teased her instead. "Pride killed the cat, you know?"

"It's curiosity, Harvey." He turned his head and saw the corner of her lips turn into a smile, the reference to the song acting as more than sweet evidence.

"Well… in the name of love…" He rolled the window down.

"Oh no!" He noticed pink shades hitting her face. "Please don't sing along."

He released the clutch, placed his hand on top of hers and sang his head off.

V

"So whose driveway am I pulling in again?" Harvey asked, scratching the back of his neck, spine tensed from hours spent behind the wheel.

"My grandma's," she explained.

"On your mother's side." There were still things about her he didn't know. It felt nice to ask. Liberating even.

She nodded. "I used to spend every summer here." "Anyway, this house has always been a second home to me. I couldn't wait to get out of Hartford and come back here."

"Four cars. Looks like we're the last ones to arrive."

"Well, it's almost six o'clock. They're probably making dinner by now." She pointed at a free spot between two cars. "You can park here on the side."

He tilted his head forward to get a better look at the house. "It looks huge. Colonial, is it?"

"Yes. Four bedrooms, two bathrooms and –"

"So how come your dad didn't ask your grandma to keep the piano here?" He turned off the ignition.

"Let's say Nanny and Dad had a huge fight after she learned he'd gambled his money away."

"Am I right to assume that before your father had to sell your house, he asked your grandmother to use her house as equity to have the bank set up a line of credit?"

"It wasn't some real estate shady deal, Harvey."

He'd hit a sensitive spot. He couldn't help himself. The look on her face told him he'd gone too far. "Do you think your grandmother would still have this house today if he had gotten her to agree?"

She lowered her head. "I don't know."

"Was your dad allowed on the premises after that episode?"

"You sound like a detective. Where's this coming from?"

"Just trying to get to know a little more about you."

"You know almost everything about me."

"Not this."

"He wasn't, not until I graduated High School." The answer remained too evasive for his taste. But this wasn't some police interrogation or worse, her standing trial. He realized how the situation made everything more difficult; even asking basic questions about her life could lead to twisted facts. And there was nothing he hated more than that – especially with her. He feared questions would turn into accusations.

"And years later Nanny found it in her heart to allow Jim to be buried in her family grave."

"Be nice and behave, Harvey. She's the sweetest person in my family." Donna got out of the car.

He quickly did the same. "Still doesn't explain–"

"My dad's parents died when he was very young. I don't even know where they're buried. I don't think my mom knows either."

He walked up to the trunk and opened it. "So the only answers I'm going to get today are 'water under the bridge and old wounds heal with time'?"

She crossed her arms. "You know, not all families are as complicated as yours."

She'd bitten hard. Her posture told him she was lying though. Maybe that peaceful four-hour drive had just been that – a moment stuck in time he would have to keep close to his heart for the remainder of the day. It didn't prevent him from biting right back. "She didn't keep the piano though."

"Seriously, Harvey!" She dropped her accusatory tone on him. It tore at his guts and all he could do was get the two suitcases out of the trunk. "She couldn't. Dad had to sell it to get some cash money for the first couple of months in Hartford."

He dropped the suitcases angrily. "I'll tell you what I think happened. We both know there's money on your mother's side; your grandmother gave some to your dad for him to start his business when he married your mom."

He moved closer to her for reasons that escaped him. This wasn't about comforting her; he was towering over her, wanting to test her, her resolve and he didn't understand where all this was coming from. He felt like his dad some thirty years ago. He and Marcus were at the back of the car and his dad had been driving for hours and he'd kept pushing his mother for answers about some obscure family secret. He hated secrets: his mother's, his family's and he certainly didn't want to cover up for them anymore. Donna was his family and he knew she would be his future. Hoping he was right and dead set on not being wrong, he wanted her to share. Everything. With or without her formal approval. The push and pull couldn't end until she understood. "Your parents married young. She was probably against that marriage in the first place. But she decided to trust him and got screwed over. She couldn't trust him anymore after that, so she didn't buy the piano back from him."

"Are you done being a jerk?"

"Am I right?"

"You've always felt like my dad didn't know what he was doing."

"Because he didn't!"

"And who do you think pressured him into always trying to be better?"

"Your mother…"

"Yes, my mom!" She grabbed her suitcase handle with a firm grip. "You've always tried to keep me from being there for my father – even now that he's dead."

"I'm not… I'm–" She was right. He'd always done that. "I'm sorry."

"Not as sorry as I am for bringing you here right now." She moved away from him and he noticed a woman he recognized as her mother and a man he didn't know walking out of the house. So many more questions would arise over the next couple of days. Couples broke up, friendships ended and love and lives could be torn apart over less than family secrets.

"Donna!" He heard the unidentified man say as he began catching up with her.

She stopped on the front porch. "Hey, Dan."

"Hey, Reddy." The older man hugged her.

"Where's Nanny?"

"In the Kitchen with Jane."

Harvey noticed she barely said hi to her mother. "Harvey, this is my uncle Dan; my mother's brother."

Strangely, the first thing that came to his mind was how nice it felt not to be introduced as her boss anymore. But he felt his existence as anything to her somewhat compromised.

He shook the older man's hand – although, always the skeptical lawyer, he wondered why she'd introduced Dan first. He didn't think it was appropriate to question who he should have to offer his condolences to first. "Sad to meet you under such circumstances."

"My brother in law's passing was brutal for sure." As Dan didn't seem to let go of his hand, maybe in search of comfort, Harvey realized he shouldn't pull away. "But he would have wanted me to drink my mother's entire cellar in his honor; which is what I intend to do and I'm hoping you'll have a few with me."

Dan seemed like a very nice fellow. He would definitely take him up on his offer later.

The small talk had gotten Donna's attention. He immediately glanced back at her. "Knowing Donna's tastes, I believe the man knew his liquor. This makes him an even greater man in my book."

Maybe he shouldn't have said this. But Jim Paulsen's shitty business ventures didn't mean he wasn't a great father. Jim would have done anything to protect her and that – he knew – should have come up in their earlier conversation by the car. Mr. Paulsen was a family man and he would have gone so far as risking prison so that she wouldn't have to testify against him regarding Mike's case. Remembering Jim's words, it had been so simply because it would have killed her to turn on her boss. Jim probably knew his daughter's heart better than she did.

He wanted to tell her what was on his mind at the moment but he chose to suffer her scoffing at his words instead. That's what he deserved for having gone back on his words twice in the span of ten minutes.

Dan didn't seem to notice and continued. "That he did. This house is filled with women so when Holly told me you were coming, I smiled internally."

Donna had been staring at the half-opened front door. She barely turned her head to her mother and added quickly: "Mom, you remember Harvey."

"Of course! Hello Harvey. How have you been all these years?" The woman extended her hand. She sounded like a woman high on meds; probably remembering the dinner party, a time which had to do with celebrating Donna's boyfriend's birthday. Her husband's passing therefore out of her mind for a moment. Why Donna had invited her in the first place had always remained a mystery. He also remembered how she'd broken up with him a couple of days later.

"Good Holly." Donna's mother offered her hand for him to shake. He placed his palm over the back of her hand. "My condolences. I'm terribly sorry for your loss."

Harvey wasn't really paying attention to the seemingly unmoved hair-sprayed factory in front of him as Donna had gone into the house without even so much as a warning. He sighed and offered the woman resembling Donna a weak smile. Short hair, older than the last time he'd seen her. He wondered for a moment if he would ever get to see Donna at 65; and if someday she would decide to have some blond highlighting done to cover the white like her mother.

"Thank you." Holly said, dinner party gone from her eyes in an instant and directed her eyes back to Dan. "Where did I leave my glass of wine, Dan?"

"I emptied it out in the sink. You need rest, sis." Holly as if rendered suddenly aphasic, didn't flinch and entered the house. Dan gave him a look that signaled the situation was under control and took the suitcase from his hand. "Time for you to meet Jane, my wife and our most precious treasure, Nanny."

Formally invited in, Harvey stepped into the house.

V

The house was a well maintained Colonial home with at least two acres of land. Many square feet of living space too, he assumed just from the size of the living room. There was a fireplace and two long sofas with a lot of seating space facing each other; two armchairs on each side completed a perfect square. Right in between the elegant, classy and slightly formal seating arrangements were two marble coffee tables and a very large Persian rug that covered the parquet floor. The entryway was relatively small compared to the size of the living room. There was a flight of stairs right across the front door.

"The house's gorgeous." Harvey really liked the Allens' tastes.

"You see that door at the end of the hall?" Dan dropped the suitcase next to Donna's by the banister and nudged his elbow. "That's the cellar."

"Good to know." Harvey was distracted by Donna's voice coming from the right.

Opposite the living room, to his right, was the kitchen. They walked up to the four women. Donna and the woman he assumed was Nanny were sat at a whitewashed wooden table. The walls were white, like the house and the interior he'd already seen. The wood flooring was the same color as the table. Holly and Dan's wife were by the kitchen island.

"Still peeling potatoes, I see," Dan said, giving his wife a peck on the cheek.

"Well, I'm still waiting for Donna's help." Jane was a good-looking woman – probably in her 60s. She and Dan seemed like the definition of a happy couple.

Dan turned around to take a look at his sister. A surprised look settled on his face. "Did you serve her another one?"

Harvey took notice of the drink in her hand. It looked like red wine.

Holly took a sip of her drink and placed it back on the counter. "It's grape juice, Dan. Your wife is a pain in my ass."

Dan sighed in relief. But it seemed the Allens got a kick at picking on each other. "You've never been an alcoholic before; I don't see why you'd start now."

Holly held her glass up and swirled the fake wine in it. "My husband just died of a heart attack. I have a good reason to start."

Jane moved from behind the counter, leaving her utensil by the sink and wiped her hands clean on her apron. "Hi, I'm Jane." She extended her hand to him. "You must be Donna's fiancé."

He accepted her hand and narrowed his eyes. "The name's Harvey but I don't think I've proposed to her yet." He turned to Donna who had lifted her eyes from her grandmother to him.

"I assume you'll be staying with Donna, her bedroom's the one at the end of the corridor facing the stairs." Jane added, letting go of his hand. Harvey felt his blood boil, heat and panic blending into a series of looks he couldn't help but throw. Jane seemed to be sensing his panic, Holly seemed unfazed, only paying attention to the drink in her hand and then he turned to Donna. Hazelnut eyes had adjusted to their darkest state yet, irises black enough to form a piercing gaze.

"The hell he is–" Donna began, rising up from her chair but her grandmother had gently caught her hand before she could move away from the table.

"Is he your boyfriend, dear?" Harvey heard Nanny say softly, her voice feeble. At least she'd heard his answer. The woman had great hearing for her age; whatever her actual age was. She looked fit, long powder white hair tied up in a bun, an angelic smile despite the vivid contrast between her pale skin and teeth. She had wrinkles but her face didn't look timeworn. And he could tell time had discolored her freckles; Donna had very likely inherited this particular feature from her. Holly didn't have freckles, at least not on her face.

"No, Nanny he's… I guess… I mean, it's complicated." Always complicated – undefinable as usual and he hated that feeling, having to bear her confusion in depth when he was so dead-set on his feelings for her.

Nanny said eyed her granddaughter carefully. "You know there are only four bedrooms, dear."

"This feels like a romantic comedy except my daughter's the stupid heroine." Harvey turned to Holly and noticed how she had raised a brow and gulped the rest of her drink.

"What did you say to me?" Donna asked, walking up to her mother.

Harvey realized that the entire family turmoil was preventing them from addressing the sleeping arrangement issue. Not that he thought there should have been one in the first place. But then again, not an hour had gone by since their last fight.

"You called me and I told you he'd either have to sleep in the living room or with you. So I don't see where the issue is."

"Stop doing this. You're trying to get involved in something that doesn't concern you." Harvey saw her fists were clenched.

"Forty-five, childless and still tangled up in that messy relationship I see; I'm sorry darling but I'm actually over how crappy your life actually is." Holly's neutral tone had Harvey roll up his hand in a fist. He didn't know where to look or who to look at anymore.

"Holly, stop!" Jane warned.

"Cut the crap Jane, just because you and Dan couldn't have kids doesn't–"

"But this is my house, Holly," Nanny cut her daughter off. "And I have every right to tell you to mind your own business."

Nanny rose up from her chair and walked over to Donna on wobbly legs and placed a soothing hand on her back.

"Fine, it's the whole family against me… again." Before leaving the kitchen, Holly turned to Harvey and said, "Donna can't make decisions on her own, so do me a favor, will you? Make the decision for her."

Donna remained silent for a moment, staring aimlessly at the stool her mother had been sitting on. She picked up the glass and traced the red lipstick on it with her fingers before circling around the island countertop to rinse up the glass in the sink. As in a situation similar to a surrealist painting, an important death was being overshadowed by old feuds and rancor. He didn't remember Holly bearing any ill-will towards Donna. He'd seen them bicker at the dinner party but none of what he'd just seen. Was Holly's malevolence a way to forget her husband's death? Did she really think her daughter to be a failure? Her daughter was her visual artwork, so unnerving and illogical to her she had to expose her, reveal secrets in an absolute super-reality. Juxtaposing life decisions and those beyond Donna's control to elicit pathos from this small gathering of people; Holly had focused on him and her relationship with her. Donna had been the object and he the subject. Since when did he have to paint her too? She was this piece of art that bore no resemblance to anything or anyone. She was Donna and about thirty seconds after he'd met her, she'd persuaded him that rhetoric and loyalty could surpass experience.

"Jane, Dan, I need your help in the cellar," Nanny said and the two nodded. She patted Harvey on the shoulder and winked at him and mouthed something that resembled, 'we can talk later.'

Left alone with Donna, he sensed the heavy and almost clinical atmosphere overburdening him more than the leering look on her face. Harvey tried to turn up the volume again, sensing she wasn't going to be done with that glass anytime soon. "Donna, I'll just–"

She immediately placed the glass at the bottom of the sink and a loud thump echoed in the kitchen. Donna closed the distance between them, the confident strut being the artifact to that super-reality – abstract and yet devoid of movement. "You're sleeping on the sofa. End of discussion." Nothing revolutionary about that. Words didn't matter but her proximity seemed to. She irradiated him – he was torn between having the conversation she didn't want to have right here, willing to fuck it out on the table behind him. Get everything out of her system somehow. But he was petrified. He'd gotten her there too – two people had forbidden her to grieve properly and he was one of them.

"Your mother had no right," he began.

"I don't want your pity, Harvey. I've been humiliated enough for today."

Unobtrusive eyes glanced back and forth between his Adam's apple and the floor; like an inconspicuous stain on a cloth, or that lipstick on her mother's glass, Donna's body language exuded insecurity.

Terrified of his idiocy, horrified that he pitied her, disenchanted by his inability to respond with proper words – all this because she didn't want to confide in him, he grabbed her face and kissed her, covering her lips with everything he had. Strong, possessive and yet gentle, he felt her respond – he closed his eyes. Certain she was going against her will, he felt her bite his lower lip in a sensual tease, as if trying to grant him more and refusing him all the same. It took her about five seconds to reject him. His eyes darted open and she wiped her mouth clean. Hurt. His heart shrunk, committing slow suicide. He felt like a monstrosity, abandoned before being given the chance to explain itself and show the beauty that was on the inside.

"No!" She pointed at the floor with her index finger. "You have no right… Why aren't you fighting me on this?" This meant nothing and everything at once.

He needed her to focus. "Do you want to be with me Donna, yes or no?"

"That's not the point."

"It is the point. One moment you're all over me like I'm the only one that matters to you and the next, you hurt my feelings and my pride by wiping your mouth as if I'd kissed someone else's lips before you."

"I didn't mean it like that, I–"

"You hurt me!" The wounded look in his eyes had an effect on her; she had heaved a constricted breath. "I disagree with everything your mother said but she's right about one thing. Make a decision about us."

And then the newfound apology was gone. "Stay out of my relationship with my mother," she warned him.

"Did you stay out of mine, Donna?" Latency set in as he gauged her reaction: she was averting her eyes and licking her lips stressfully. "You forced me to confront my issues. And you were right to." The redhead was looking at him again. Dialectic seemed to be the only method he could use to get her attention; he was a lawyer after all. "And one of your issues right now is with me getting close to you, kissing you, showing you how much I want you."

"This is not simple," she gulped. "I have to…" She pursed her lips, probably biting the inside of her mouth as if she were about to cry, "… deal with what happened to my dad."

He envisioned her lips differently now. They weren't marked by his anymore; bite marks from the previous night gone and yet forever stained by a decade old history. "You don't want me to comfort you, Donna."

"I need you to." Absurd, inconsistent with her previous sentences and predictable through and through. Like a creature in its death throes, he could feel her eyes thudding in agony.

"Then tell me how," he took her hands in his.

"I'm not ready, Harvey." Had he been a tipster, he would have bet that tear would form in her eye eventually. Predictions necessitated actions and the last two days were tinged with sadness because they were over. Ghosts of their former selves – a couple excited about dating. It had taken too long. Thirteen goddamn years. Blue lips over blue ones, discolored and never undone. Donna never came with a noose; she'd never lured him to her. It was her soul tied to that rope and she was right at the end of it. And there he stood, somehow anchored to her, firmly grounded, and trying to have her climb down. What a foolish endeavor it had been to want her back in his arms with a kiss.

"No one's ever ready, Donna. Sometimes you just have to trust whatever it is that someone brings to you." There, he knew it. He selfishly hoped she would find solace in his need for her. But he couldn't tell her that because it made him surreal as well.

The feeble voice of before had penetrated his ears. Donna's too as he noticed her observing the scene unfolding behind him. "Jane thinks we could have dinner outside tonight. Dan opened the outside door onto the cellar. What do you think Donna?"

"I think it's a good idea," she gulped, watching him from the corner of her eyes. "I'll go unpack my things. If you'll excuse me."

He tilted his head to the side as she brushed past him. "Do you need my help setting the table?"

"Sure, I'm the designated cook tonight anyway. I need to delegate. Hopefully Holly will feel better shortly and come and help me," Jane explained, returning to her previous spot in behind the island countertop.

"Why aren't you going after her?" Nanny's fragile nudge got his attention. She looked cute.

"She doesn't want to see me right now," he offered her a small smile.

"Sir, I can tell by the look in your eyes that she's very important to you. I know you'll do what's right."

There was something so old-fashioned about her calling him sir. He felt like a lawyer in the fifties secretly screwing his secretary. Except she wasn't his secretary anymore, he wasn't screwing her and they definitely weren't a secret anymore. "I don't know that I can, Mrs. Allen. And call me Harvey, please."

"Harvey," she almost sounded like Donna for a moment. "You could be a total stranger, her friend, her boyfriend, her fiancé or her husband that it wouldn't matter. My granddaughter doesn't get scared easily. And yet she's terrified of identifying you. This tells me all I need to know."

"Jim's death isn't helping our relationship."

"I believe you're wrong Mr. Specter."

"So you do know my last name." He wasn't so much surprised as he was confused.

The old lady grinned. "She's told me about you before, you know?"

"But I heard you ask whether I was her boyfriend or not."

"Because I know she used to work for you. Why would her former boss drive her to her father's funeral?"

"Nanny, stop bothering him and come help me, will you?" Jane asked, closing a cupboard.

She sighed. "Hard to believe but my daughter in law can be even more of a pain than my own daughter."

"I heard that," Jane said, peeling another potato. "If you don't come and help me right now, I'll tell him your real age."

"I'm Nanny and I'll forever be 38."

Jane grumbled. "And next year, she'll say she'll forever be 48. Every year she does that and I remember when she couldn't wait to be 80 just to say she was 8."

He smiled at Jane and Nanny. The latter shrugged. "Your age doesn't think for you."

"Unless you become senile," Jane seemed to enjoy teasing her mother in law. "Oh, Harvey, Dan's in the cellar on wine duty by the way. He thought you might want to join him."

"I'll join him in a minute. Which sofa can I sleep on tonight?" Harvey asked and noticed Holly suddenly walking past him.

"The one by the foyer. I placed a pillow and a blanket on it for you." Did she know her daughter well enough to know he wouldn't be able to change her mind? Her mother's knowledge and feelings were practically thin-skinned and resembled Donna's skills. She knew people too. Out of the two Allen women, Donna had taken her wit and kindness after her grandmother; her omniscient-like personality and vulnerability seemed to have come from her mother. And in that sum, Jim must have been the equals sign; the man who'd tried protecting them all. Just like Donna Roberta Paulsen, fervent and loyal protector of just as equally loyal boss, Harvey Reginald Specter esquire. But it came with a price; she was her greatest guardian – an inaccessible piece of machinery resolute in using its serrated cogs as impassable hurdles. Her kisses bit. Her kisses hurt.

Holly moved next to Jane, less haphazardly than she had before and opened the oven. Tension and alcohol seemed positively on the wane. "Would you mind it if we eat that roast chicken cold, Mom?"

"For Jim, I'll agree to feeling nauseated." Nanny shrugged. "Do you like cold roast chicken, Harvey?"

"I do, Mrs. Allen." He started retreating from the kitchen. These Allen-Paulsen women sure knew how to keep a man around but even now and then he needed a break from such women. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have a phone call to make." Lying wasn't one of his strongest suits.

He had called Robert in the morning telling him Donna would at least need a week off. Robert told Harvey that even if the firm was at stake, he wouldn't call. Harvey didn't feel reassured but accepted his senior's proposition nevertheless.

He went to the living room and put his suitcase against the sofa. He sat on the cream-colored piece of furniture and closed his eyes as he relaxed against the firm and yet comfortable cushions. He heard footsteps coming from upstairs and then thumping sounds he associated with Donna. He walked to the entryway again and saw her treading down the last flight of stairs.

"Hey, I'm going to the cellar." He blocked her way for a moment.

"I'm heading to the kitchen." She nodded aimlessly.

"I'll see you later?" He couldn't believe how weak he sounded. His implicit question hadn't helped.

"Dinner should be ready soon." She moved around him and joined her female counterparts in the kitchen.

V

Dinner took place outside as requested by Nanny Allen whose actual name he'd learned was Sophia. He'd helped pick the wine and had brought Nanny's special chair outside and made sure it was safely grounded and stable in the grass.

He'd lost count of how many times they'd made toasts in Jim's honor. Some of he and Holly's friends and business partners from Hartford would be here; old friends from Cortland too and one of Donna's high school friends.

Donna had barely touched her potato; at least some of the chicken and salad were gone. She usually had a good appetite.

He'd made it a point to seat across from her, leaving her some much needed space.

"You didn't eat anything last night and I don't know if you ate anything for lunch," he said, tentatively.

She sighed, dropping her fork. "Why did I have to pick you as my boss again?"

"I chose you."

"Not at first you didn't." Unexpectedly, her tone and eyes suddenly became more playful.

"Double negatives make your comment null and void." He tried to joke but noticed she'd had enough of his sarcastic replies. Dangerously teasing territory wasn't fun to her anymore.

"I'm going to bed." He watched her swiftly rise from her chair and wanted nothing but to go after her. But he couldn't risk her making a whole scene about it.

Her mother spoke up. "The service starts at 11."

"I know."

"Then why are you leaving so early?" It was indeed early; not even close to 9:30pm.

"I don't need another lecture from you, Mom. I'm tolerating you at best right now so please don't make it worse."

"If you have something on your mind say it."

"You haven't said a bad word to me in thirty years and now that Dad's gone you're lashing out at me?"

This was turning into a roman-à-clef, a fighting scene involving two people within another scene centered on loss and mourning – with the rest of the family witnessing everything as silent observers.

"You used to pressure him all the time and now, I realize what he's had to put up with. Even more so than before. That stress and those business deals killed him."

"You don't know what it was like. He felt like a lesser man because of his work. I had to push him."

"You gave him that heart attack, Mom!" Donna spat out.

"Let's not say such terrible things, dear," Nanny interjected.

"Do you even listen to yourself? He was diagnosed with a heart condition, Donna." Holly sounded out of breath. She gulped and added, "Don't put the blame on me!"

"You didn't love him enough to let him make his own decisions and you dare tell me to make mine?" Donna's analogies startled him a little. He was used to them but on such a personal level? He didn't think he'd ever heard her talk about her family so much before. Her anger wasn't masked by a pretense that all was well. Every little secret could come out and he wasn't sure he wanted to be privy to them anymore.

"Who'll have some dessert?" Jane suggested but none of it reached Donna and Holly's ears.

"I loved him enough to let him be the man he wanted to be. I know I wasn't perfect but our marriage was. Can you say that about your own life?"

He could tell Donna was holding back even more tears than before now. "Why the kids issue again? Dan and Jane couldn't have kids. Maybe I can't either. So why today of all days?"

This wasn't what she wanted to talk about, was it? Things he hadn't thought of before started to make sense to him.

"I had drunk a few, Donna." He wondered if Holly's shame was what made her sound so apologetic.

"That's no excuse, Mom and you know it." Donna exhaled loudly for everyone to hear before continuing. "So tell me, once and for all why it bothers you so much that I'm 'childless' as you say. I mean you could criticize me being just a secretary, but I'm COO of my firm now. I made a name for myself. Children were never my priority and you know it."

"Because your priority's always been him!" Holly was pointing at him, accusatorily. Degrees of responsibilities heated up scraps of memories. From them walking side by side, to discussing mergers like battle plans, their power couple on the outside had everything. But if someone had dared looked in, they would have seen two separate apartments and two empty lives. All of it started to twist his guts, scratch up his bones and grip his organs.

He couldn't care less about Holly's opinion of him. Nevertheless, the words "emotionally, unavailable, driven by money, women, unloved" had come up. He'd missed out on most of what she'd said anyway so he stared at Donna instead and he realized she was staring right back at him. As if in a twisted turn of events, he was prioritizing again.

"Your father and I used to talk about you having kids all the time, wondering when it would eventually happen for you. When he'd get to play with his grandchildren. I know it's stupid and selfish but as you get older, you want that unconditional love again."

"I didn't know that." Donna looked so disheartened it broke him inside again. She thought about giving her dad access to her 401k once so opening up to the idea of having children was an even smaller feat. Maybe she had. Who knew? She would have given her dad the world.

"But why did you have to bring Harvey into this?" She crossed her arms protectively – the confusing kind of protectiveness.

"Oh come on, Donna, it only took me one awful dinner party to understand how you felt about him. I just wonder what took him so long. Maybe –" Holly explained but this had to stop, he rose up from his chair and cut her off instantly.

"If I hear either one of you mention me again, I'm out of this house. None of you get to talk about my feelings for me. Are we clear on that?" Harvey noticed Dan and Jane nodding at him. He had almost completely forgotten they were here.

"I was going to say," she paused and turned to Donna, emphasizing on the first couple of words, 'Maybe you're so unavailable emotionally that he couldn't figure you out and be sure of your feelings."

"Jeez," he huffed. This was still too close to him but his earlier resolution and resolve to leave this house were gone with just one look from her.

This wouldn't end. And there were no reason for Donna to not answer her mother's grievances. "And who do you think is the queen of unavailability, huh? You never were a mother to me. Dad thought you were a good wife though, I'll give you that."

"Your dad wore his heart on his sleeve. I chose to sacrifice that in order to make it work. Do you think Nanny approved of us being together at 18? I had to fight for us."

This sounded almost too familiar to Harvey. He knew children repeated their parents' mistakes but the extent of Donna's sacrifice to make their friendship and working relationship work all these years was an unknown. He'd always known he wasn't the one who'd sacrificed everything. On little issues yes, but that was it.

Sophia 'Nanny' Allen rose up from her chair and thumped her fist on the table. "Enough!"

"So now you want to get into it," Holly huffed.

"I hope to God Jim can't hear you right now." Nanny let out.

"Cut the crap, Mom, you hated him for years."

"And I hated you too if you remember. Now Donna, are you sure you don't want some dessert?"

She walked up to her grandmother and kissed her temple. "No, thank you. I think I had enough of everything tonight." She added before turning to leave, "Night everyone."

He searched her face, wishing for an invitation but nothing came. She was hurting for reasons that went beyond the confrontation with her mother. Her mother wasn't ill-intentioned. But she'd transferred her need to take care of Jim onto Donna. It was too much to bear.

"Harvey, 'want to grab a drink before you get to sleep on our wonderful sofa?"

"Yeah, I wouldn't mind actually." Harvey followed Dan and heard someone whimper behind him. He saw Jane and Nanny gathering around Holly. They were soothing her cries and she wasn't driving them away. Sometimes people dealt with loss healthily and sometimes they did so in the worst of ways.

"Don't worry about it, Harvey," Dan said, opening the exterior cellar door. "You and I will be the last ones up. Do you like doing the dishes?"

"You mean using that state-of-the-art dishwasher you have?"

"Right," Dan offered him a sheepish smile.

"Sure but let's have that drink first." He patted him on the back.

"You know I don't say much but he was a brother to me."

"The women in your family…" Harvey sympathized.

"Even Jane somehow got involved. I don't like limitations being put on my gender though!" Dan smiled.

Harvey smiled back at him. Maybe there was a bit of Donna in Dan too.

V

Sleeping on a surface other than a bed for two nights in a row was the least comfortable thing there was. His back hurt and he couldn't find a proper position to sleep. Those were merely the symptoms of a broken heart some would say. She was upstairs, in her old teenager's bedroom while he was down here, feeling miles away from her at least emotionally. It was close to midnight and he knew the moment he had laid his ass on that sofa that he would walk up those stairs and walk right into her bedroom without warning. He hadn't thought about how long it would take for him to actually make the decision. He simply hoped she wasn't asleep. Either way, he'd wake her up.

He climbed the stairs and knocked; initial plan gone and his balls with it. Nothing. He knocked a second time, hoping he wouldn't wake up anyone in the process. Still no answer. He turned the door knob – at least she hadn't locked the door. He got in and noticed her staring, stretched out on a banquet like sill by the opened window, glass of something resembling alcohol in her hand and smoke coming out of her nostrils.

This was your typical teenager's bedroom; a testament to a continuous ending and a eulogy about who she was. He recognized two iconic posters even though the left part of her room and its corners were darker than the window side. One of them was a U2 poster and he figured a 1980-something Madonna was staring at him from above her bed. He could make out the forms of various trinkets on the bedside table – one of them was definitely a piggy bank. He noticed a Lacrosse stick hung on her left wall.

He walked up to her and took the drink from her hand. At least she hadn't rejected him yet. She was wearing a tank top and little sleeping shorts. Her hair was probably a wanted mess. She'd ran her fingers through it, manipulating locks to sexy dishevelment, the well-lit night sky offering him a glorious view of her legs – slightly bent and pressed up against her chest – while the colder air was granting him the opportunity to let his imagination trail over her breasts and hard nipples. "Scotch?"

"I grabbed a bottle from the cellar earlier. Glen Garioch, 15 year old. My dad's favorite." She took another puff as he took a mouthful of the amber liquid. "It's good scotch."

"I thought you'd comment on the joint." She offered it to him.

"Where did you get it?" He accepted it, taking this opportunity to brush his fingers against hers.

"Jane had cancer when I was 18," she exhaled the smoke. "She still buys Marijuana from time to time and thought I could use some. Haven't had one in years though."

"Is cancer the reason why she never had children?"

She nodded. "Stomach cancer. The radiation treatment damaged her ovaries."

"That's terrible." He took a long drag and paid attention to Donna's craftsmanship. She'd rolled and honed that joint to perfection. He was impressed.

She took the glass back from his hand and gulped what was left. "I should go to bed."

"You should," he took one last puff and gave it back to her.

He moved to her ridiculously small bed and lay down on it casually.

"What do you think you're doing?" she asked.

"Getting ready for bed," he patted the empty space beside him.

"I'm not sleeping with you."

"Well, you let me know whenever you get tired of that window."

Seconds. One minute or two maybe. She was staring out the window, blueish night sky projecting light onto her freckled skin. He kept glancing back and forth between her blank face and her chest, falling and rising evenly.

The room was hotter than he'd thought at first. Maybe he was reacting to her; she was practically naked after all and definitely unconcerned with his presence. It was bound to heat things up within him, basic instincts taking over the thinking man. He removed his t-shirt. Maybe he'd get her attention that way. Wrong; she hadn't even taken a glimpse.

"Are you still mad at me?" He broke the silence, having to ask.

"Yes." The conversation included him but the window was still her only source of focus.

"What can I do to change that?" She was an ice queen melting his heart.

"You could start by apologizing." She took a drag, the crackling sound filled up the room. The fiery color of combustion felt like an all too appropriate metaphor for his state. He was hot – not just from the heat – but because of her.

"I apologize."

"Thank you."

"What am I apologizing for again?"

This had the effect of making her look at him again. She scratched her temple with the hand that held the joint. "Nothing." She stubbed out the joint in the ashtray she'd placed on the window sill. Her head fell back against the wall.

"Do you know why I didn't say anything about that old boyfriend of yours at that awful dinner party eight years ago?"

"I feel like you're about to tell me."

"Because I didn't want you to see how selfish I was, how jealous I felt and how much I wanted you."

"I know you, Harvey. I know you desire what you can't have."

"And you made it clear I couldn't have you."

"And you made it perfectly clear I couldn't get everything from you. You made me choose."

"You made that choice yourself. I hadn't even come up to that."

"You knew the rule."

"You'd broken it."

"Would you have wanted to be in a relationship with me at the time?"

"I've always wanted to be in a relationship with you."

"That's not a good answer, Harvey."

"What's the right answer then?" He rose up from the bed. "Cause I can't think of any, can you?"

He was moving dangerously close to her, like a hunter assessing its prey, calming it down and trying to prevent it from clearing out.

"Thirteen years. I've known you thirteen years and you still know more about me than I do about you. I'm bound to make mistakes. But I need you to share things with me."

"I've shared plenty." He was by her side then. Beloved Donna was stuck between him and that opened window. Two precipices and one of them was him. She'd either let herself fall against him or take another route. The other metaphorical way out didn't feel healthy at all though.

He knew she knew he was undressing her with his eyes, his breath pattern the clearest of indications.

"Kiss me." Tingles ran up and down his neck and in his arms when he said it.

"We've already done that." She sounded like she was gasping for air.

He lowered his face, lips close to hers. "Kiss me like you're not sure I'm going to leave you."

Her eyes welled up and he tried soothing her by kissing her cheek, eventually levelling his lips to her ear and said. "Keep those tears for your dad. You and I don't need them."

He then trailed a few kisses to her neck, caught the chain of her pendant against his lips and felt her press her cheek against his temple. Her breathing told him she wanted to fight her fears but couldn't. "Is this okay?"

He felt her nod in agreement and a tear got stuck in between their faces. His heartbeat accelerated like an upbeat song reaching the end of its outro, synchronizing with her what he could only describe as threatened breathing.

She placed his left hand under her top, guiding him to her breasts. He groaned against her temple at the invitation. From the way her abdomen tensed up, he could tell fear clawed through her chest. He stroked the valley between them in a gentle back and forth movement. He groped the outer edges, thumb stroking her nipple. She gently moaned against his face which had the effect of increasing his effort. Fondling along the smooth sides of each breast, he set his palm firmly against her ribcage as he traced the sensitive curves and kneaded one of them from base to tip, the contact of her hardened nipple transferring signals of stiffness straight to his sex.

She plastered herself back against the ledge further and he felt her heart thunder in her chest. He removed his hand from her upper-body and settled on her left hip. He kissed her cheek once more before taking a moment to catch his breath and focused his gaze on her legs. He was afraid looking at her would bring a feeling of humiliation. As long as he was buried in her neck, the situation couldn't look real. It was a dream, a fantasy at best and a need to ease things up between the two of them. He ran his hand on her thigh, caressing it. His focus unhampered by the distracting way her hand stroked his penis through his tracksuit. He felt himself grow harder against her. She was too hot-tempered to be rejected; one wrong move, one mistake and it could all be over in a matter of seconds.

He moaned at her touch and closed his eyes, feeling the weight of an invisible stare on him. Because despite all fears, she was right there with him. And it's all he wanted. He rubbed her knee slowly before suddenly cradling it in his hand. She gasped at the sudden change in position. Glad the window sill was high enough that she was lying just a little above his waist line, he bent his head to kiss her thigh, skin so warm and soft against his lips. The cool air controlled their perspiration somehow. He stopped moving, longing for the feeling of his heart burning open wide, until nothing else remained but dried sweat on their skin. He glided his fingertips along her inner thigh and in the direction of her shorts. He used the crook of his elbow to support her, giving her thigh a 90° angle as the rest of her limb fell limp on the other side.

He couldn't let her know how much he enjoyed watching her crane forward. Selfishly from the corner of his eye, he drank the blue night light reverberating off her before he slipped his steady hand up her shorts; making his determination known to her. She tensed up and arched her back almost immediately when he grazed his fingertips against her center. He placed his hand under her ass, the back of his forearm pulling the cotton cage away from her entrance, leaving room for him to thumb her slit in an up and down motion.

It wasn't hard for her to pull him out of his loose-fitting outfit. He couldn't help himself. He switched his eyes from her shorts to where she'd placed her palms. The ventral view of his penis brushing up against the banquet ever so slightly, with her hand getting closer to his pleasure center, was the most erotic way to engage in carnal knowledge. Had he been dreaming this, he was sure he would have had a spontaneous ejaculation. She was just too much and he couldn't help but feel like the luckiest bastard there was.

Nails and fingers grazed over his waist, stopping at the line between soft skin and hair. He gulped. He took in the sight of her, as if he could discover her anew each time, thumb still stroking her slit, dipping just enough to assess how slick she was. She was staring at his face, lips parted slightly and head still resting against the wall behind the sill. Her lungs worked hard but he could tell from the way her right hand almost choked the blood flow from his forearm that she wasn't feeling relaxed enough. And this was making it hard for his muscles to perform flexion.

This would become uncomfortable for her with dry fingers and she wasn't going to work with him to get around it. He couldn't tolerate pain. He just didn't want it no matter how pleasurable it could become.

He removed his hand from her shorts and let go of her leg. He sucked on all three fingers at once and let saliva drip on them. He brushed the tip of his thumb against them, moved his hand to the waistband of her short and slipped it back into them. He felt it was his cue to make her understand that this was for her. He adjusted his hand and slipped a finger inside of her. She gripped his cock as if seeking support. Going around in slow circles first, he then varied his movements and speed, thrusting up and down at a faster pace. He felt her muscles clench against him and watched her spread her legs wider; out of full view but more than within his reach. She had as much power over him as he had over her. He felt there was this unhurried mercy about them.

He stopped her from stroking him but held her hand in place. The pressure of her fingers and palm fisting part of his length and head could easily send him over the edge. He wasn't the torturer but a prisoner; his own fire conditioned by hers. Her touch wasn't delicate but his wasn't either. He had to slowly work his way back to her. Therefore he hoped, for a moment, that he would be enough to wash this fucked up world for her. Have her give up, have her focus on her own release. He inserted another finger inside of her and thumbed her clit in a slow tantalizing motion. This had the effect of her losing her grip on him. He felt her grope for his ass cheek, kneading it firmly first. But his purpose was clearer than it had ever been so he held on this sleight of hand until she let go of him completely and gripped the ledge of the banquet. The experience took on a whole other level when she began thrusting her pelvis forward and attempted fucking his fingers.

"Harvey," she moaned between inhuman upward and backward thrusts. Limitless pushes generated by the single power of desire; the need to come undone. Pulling him in as well, trapping him in her tightened walls, he felt his overall control slacken. She was a goddess, showing off years of yoga, with abdominal strength and developed glute muscles. She'd told him those heels she wore would have killed her back years ago hadn't she been working out. Her signature strut had him silently crying for mercy on so many occasions.

He lowered his head to the crook of her neck and kissed it before sucking on it, careful not to apply too much suction and leave a hickey. The pendant seemed gone from her mind.

He heard something being inadvertently knocked over the edge of the window. He tilted his head back and noticed the ashtray was gone and she was gripping that edge. He grinned, bringing his face to hers again.

"Kiss me now." He inched closer to her.

Her eyes were searching his making his heart and groin pulsate in anticipation. She lowered her eyes, focusing on his lips. He felt an inch of shared air between their mouths. She seemed to be resisting the temptation to heave strongly as she hauled herself forward. He saw her close her eyes and felt her parted lips engulf his. He grabbed her body, placing his arm over her shoulders and pulled her closer. He felt her limp against him with nothing but desire coming from her mouth and barely audible moans. She wasn't urging him to give her that pleasure, muffling her inner battles and letting herself go instead. Thrusts weren't met anymore. He had full control. She seemed to barely have any strength at all; she didn't dart her tongue inside his mouth and she didn't bite. She wasn't hurting but hanging on this moment, tugging at his lips in a formidable fashion, pulling, sucking, pecking and seeking bottom and lower lip and their junctions. It took him all he had not to penetrate the inside of her mouth with his tongue. She heaved faster against his mouth. She'd grabbed his face by then, seating almost upright on that banquet. How he was able to keep stroking her, he didn't know.

"Please."

And then it clicked, he felt himself vulnerable, privy to her orgasm in a way he hadn't been able to before. Maybe he'd just forgotten. He heard her moan a startling and discreet fuck against his mouth. She shone her light on him, sharing that heart-stopping sensation, watching her eyes open wide as that last breath got stuck in her throat, feeling how she'd secured all that energy against his digits to prevent the ultimate involuntary contraction was exactly how he wanted this. He was acutely aware of the deadening weight her orgasm would bring upon her. The initial outburst and the beauty of her euphoria waning, he felt his comprehension limited. She seemed tied to the next world, eyes fluttering open and then shut as if experiencing lingering threads tying pieces of her life together. Differently. Re-writing some of it for a moment, he hoped. Her dad could be far from her mind. No family feud. No one but her; with him by her side.

"Donna." He was out of breath and kissed her temple as he eased his fingers out of her.

A part of his soul had left him, probably gone to hers. He felt her caress the back of his sweaty neck. She looked sated. The skin on his back hurt, likely wrecked by her nails since she'd dug deeper as soon as the earth-shattering feeling took over her. He couldn't blame her for being desperate for it to stop and continue forever. She'd consented to that kiss but her nails were part of an expected and welcomed blowback.

He turned away from her and pulled his pants back up. She must have noticed his upper back for she started kissing his shoulder. Using her fingertips to soothe the scratched and tender region, she said: "I'm sorry about that."

"I'm fine."

He felt her hands descend lower to the erection he'd tried to cover up again. She groped him and asked: "Harvey, you didn't… I'm–"

He turned around again and cupped her cheek. "I'm more than okay, really. It's already going down on its own."

"But–"

"I'm not leaving." He tucked a lock of her shoulder-length hair behind her ear. "We got all the time in the world."

He kissed her cheek and went to pick up his shirt on the bed.

"Aren't you staying?" She sounded confused.

He moved to the door and gave her a wink. "Sofa's fine. End of discussion."

* * *

DGITTF

DGITTF

 **That was chapter 5! Lots of content! Please review this if you liked it! I live for those as usual. You know what? I don't care, I command you guys to! :P**

 **I'd like to thank my online BFF Alternateshadesofblue for her constant support, impeccable timing and serious fangirling over my fics. I don't know what she finds in them, especially my sex scenes. They're so dull, repetitive and boring sometimes.**

 **I'd like to also thank all those who reviewed on for this fic and Too Many Times (and others) cause this is where we need you to tell us what you think. I've said this a lot on Twitter but FF writers enjoy keeping track of people's criticisms and thoughts on chapters. Twitter's great and we love the likes and retweets but this is where we need you to review, so please go review all your favorite writers, those you haven't read yet and think should keep writing. :)**

 **Till next chapter (coming up soon),**

 **BG xx**


	6. Chapter 6

================================VV================================

Don't Give in to that Feeling

================================VV================================

VI – Deciphering the codes in you

Harvey woke up to the sound of the entire house coming down the stairs. He ran both hands over his face and rubbed his neck. He wondered if Donna was awake and in the kitchen with the rest of her family. Morning routine embedded in his brain, he stroked his length, scratched his balls and was reminded of how difficult it had been for him to sleep that erection off. He deserved a medal for it.

She had been the highlight of everything. Sure, joint and booze had been on his side but she wasn't so out of it, was she? Euphorically prepared, blissfully unhinged and clearly in want of him by the end of his attention to her; she didn't have to be on her own. He'd made it clear she had him. But he wasn't going to stand and wait for her to pleasure him to get even. He had to get that message to her even if it hurt both sides.

The living room doors burst open and Donna's almighty and rarely-challenged grandmother showed her face. Wearing the black with splendor, she indulged in saying proper words at least.

"Good morning, Harvey. I'm sorry to wake you but we're all taking turns to get ready. The service starts in two hours."

He was going to say he was fine, his hand glued to his crotch – sudden movements a risk for his 15-year-old self. Nanny definitely had that effect on him – she could be his granny after all.

"Good morning. Do you want me to get ready before breakfast or –" He sat up straight the moment she turned to close the doors.

Surprised by her action, he asked: "Was there something you needed?"

"No, don't mind me, I just need to grab Jim's favorite book." She walked up to the bookcase on the wall opposite him.

He didn't know how to bring up the fact that he was only wearing boxers and that he needed the kind of privacy any 40 plus year old guy deserved.

About a minute or two were spent in silence. Harvey stared at the woman before him. She'd put her glasses on and went looking through most shelves.

"Do you need any help?" Harvey asked. He didn't want to help her, he was barely wearing anything. Idiot.

"No, but have you thought of ways to help my granddaughter besides sneaking up into her room late at night–"

"How did you–" Shock couldn't describe how he was feeling.

"Only to leave afterwards by the way. What kind of gentleman are you, exactly?"

Shame kicked in for a moment, but then it passed. Nanny was old but she was still a woman. She'd seen it all before.

"I'm… I'm…" Words just wouldn't come. What was she implying exactly? He got her granddaughter off but he couldn't let her know that.

"You're so in love with her you would do something as stupid as leave her bedroom. Men are still impossible even in the 21st century. I'm glad I won't have to suffer through that anymore. Act like a man, Harvey. Don't be the hero. That's not who she deserves."

He was getting annoyed. She was supposed to be old and wise but that didn't mean she had the right to judge him.

"Are you saying I should be the anti-hero? Someone who'd take advantage of her?"

"Shape the poet in you, Harvey. Make her notice you. Her father was the first man of her life. Be there for her today. But then… start doing your job and become her last."

She was right about one thing. He was irrevocably, unapologetically in love with Donna. And had been madly so for thirteen years.

"Nanny!" Harvey heard the door being jerked open and saw Donna coming in wearing the blackest dress he'd ever seen her wear. No shadows would fade away because there couldn't be any. He wondered if high above her Jim stood, watching over her, thinking he'd given birth and rise to the most beautiful woman there was – no matter the circumstances or the pain.

"What are you doing here?" She sounded accusatory. She'd barely given a glimpse his way.

"Found it!" Nanny picked a book – he realized she could have picked any at this point; the reason behind this intrusion had probably nothing to do with Jim's favorite book.

Nanny started heading to the door and Donna gestured for her to hand her the book. "What's that?"

"Your father's favorite book."

"You were at his section, Nanny. All the books in there are his favorites." She hadn't said 'were'. Thinking outside the past tense was probably one of her most hidden defense mechanisms.

"I want to read this at some point. I have trouble sleeping."

"And it just so happens you needed it now while Harvey was still using the room."

Her grandmother took a moment to think. "And what are _you_ doing here? Coming to pay your boyfriend a visit?"

"That is not–" Aghast Donna couldn't finish her sentence.

"You look beautiful. Your father would be proud." Nanny gave her granddaughter a kiss on the cheek and then winked at him. "And by the way, next time? Close that window for her, will you?"

Donna flushed when her grandmother walked past and closed the doors behind her. Donna tried to compose herself and locked the door.

"At least she's still got good hearing." He had to make joke. His heart was far from shallow about her at that moment. He hated his own defense mechanism.

She approached him. "I don't think I can do this, Harvey."

"What are you saying?" Terrified was how he felt. On the verge of suffocating.

She sat down next to him. "I want to stay here with you."

He felt his body relax but he could tell he shouldn't. "I'm supposed to go to the cemetery too, you know?"

She stood up suddenly and threw up her arms in the air. "I'm asking you to stop me from going."

"I don't understand what's going on, Donna. You're not making any sense." He got up too and soothed her back.

"What's going on is that I want to be with you right now."

"You are with me." He caught her chin to make her look at him. "I'm not going anywhere."

"I want you to make me forget again." She turned to him and sucked on his lower lip.

"Listen, last night was–"

She looked smothered by something that went beyond the limits of what people could take. Fear of abandonment probably. Vulnerability had gotten rid of that glow he'd seen on her when she came last night, and had replaced it with dullness.

No matter how hard she was trying, all he could hear was lack of vividness. She was falling apart. "I want last night all the time, Harvey."

"Donna, I want it too but that's not–" She'd put her trust in him again; misplaced it for sure when she came full on, open-mouthed, the gap covering him from lower mouth to chin, working his jaw so that he couldn't help but part his lips. There was no limit to her might in what could only be described as the most aggressively sensual sexual kiss he'd experienced. Her hands felt strong, grasping the back of his neck and head. No thick air between them; she desperately wanted him – scratching her mouth against his morning stubble. She wanted to ache. She wanted to feel through him. He didn't think there ever was a man who could say no to Donna Paulsen in that state. He broke the kiss to look at her.

Attractiveness was a synonymic word to his eyesight. She was dead-gorgeous with her eyes fluttering and her mouth still open. It seemed she wanted him gone with her; asking him to fall into that darkness. There were no makeup fixes for her red eyes. He placed a lock of hair behind her ear and kissed the spot right above her nose. She searched his lips again, fumbling between his jaw and bottom lip. He felt languid against the softness of her harsh mouth. Lips pulling him in for another devastating sensation. Haunting him not to stop. She smelled like a million perfumes and tasted like the sweetest hell. No one ever said it would be so hard to love someone. How much did she want to risk – her sanity? His? To have something just like this?

"Is fucking our brains out the answer to surviving today?"

"Yes."

"To make you forget?" he asked, forcing her to think in between kisses and strokes against his bulge on her part.

"Stop talking."

She kissed his neck, hiked up her dress, crouched and used his hips for support to get down on her knees.

He hated this, he didn't know what to do. She wanted this. And who was he to say it was all for the wrong reasons? How was what he'd done last night right? She was the love of his life, he didn't want anyone else. No other hands to his waist-level; no other mouth finding his groin. She lowered his boxers and freed his erection. His eyes rolled at the back of his head when she grabbed him and took him at the base, sliding her fingers up and down his length. She licked the bluntness of his tip before taking him into her mouth; his foreskin being pulled up and down by her hand as she went. He hadn't been able to stop it. Reciprocating the pleasure he'd given her last night. She was honest about it. She cupped his sack then and he throbbed at her touch. She was heading for oblivion, bringing him along for the ride. He clenched his fists and then grabbed her arms to pull her back up. He kissed her again, accepting her haste, rushing to outrun her pace and make her pant against him – depriving her of oxygen seemed to be the only way to stop this. He grabbed both her wrists and held them steady. She panted against him, exhausted and turned on. Flushed beyond repair. Looking slightly annoyed at his dominating self.

"Stop," he mumbled into her mouth. But she wouldn't stop. He felt her smirk against him, biting his lower lip the way he didn't want her to.

He slowed eveything down, trapping her mouth into his completely, lips squished until it became hard for her to reciprocate.

"Please, Donna. Stop it." And then he saw them stream, down on her face. Ranges of emotions encapsulated in the most terrible flow: pain, abandonment, grief, shame, acceptance and the humiliation he was partly responsible for.

He let go of her wrists and pulled his boxers up; all traces of exposed carnation gone. Bearing witness to the look of hurt on her face hangs on one deeply egotistical question: how long would she stay mad? She was Donna. She would forgive him in the end. Right? He noticed how tense she looked. She was probably clenching her jaw to suppress anger or more tears. All pride, resolve and pretenses gone. It was the hardest thing he'd ever had to do: telling her he didn't want her. He was expecting insults but none came. So he risked cupping her cheek but she took a step back. Survival instinct. His refusal the worst of offenses.

"Don't touch me." Her tone was soft, deprived of hate. He didn't think she could hurt him more.

Morning started off pretty great. Nanny's words stuck in his head like a disease to the sick. His weakness for her taking over him only to get kicked out of the way by his rationalization. He'd tried his best; between being here for her and then not. Within a moment she was out of his sight, doors had been burst open and he realized he hadn't succeeded. How could he be that man for her?

VI

Anger swelled in his guts. He'd spent the better part of the funeral searching her eyes. He wanted her to look into his – see how he desperately needed them to talk about what had happened. It didn't matter how selfish he was. This was them. On the outs. And he wouldn't have it.

Although the Allens were Catholics, Jim Paulsen was Presbyterian. The minister, Father Dane was his name, spoke in metaphors. Empty canvases that needed to be painted with life again as sheets were laid down over the dead. He talked about how Jim's legacy was the kindness he transferred upon his daughter – many other adjectives were used to describe how Donna took after her father and how she and her mother would continue to remember him. This was obviously Nanny's doing. She had organized the funeral with her son's help after all. She had a say in everything that was being said.

Donna had changed her mind about going. After a long, painful shower and as soon as he had donned the black as well, he realized she hadn't mentioned her doubts about going to her family. He'd gone to meet them all in the kitchen. Everybody was ready to go so he offered.

 _I'll drive you._

She'd said no to going to the cemetery with him, barely glancing his way. He'd insisted.

 _Donna, I really want to drive you there._

She pretended not to hear him. Obviously, her family hadn't said anything about the tension between them. Ice queen through and through – he was a shape in that kitchen, limited in form and not even remotely desirable in the face of increased attention. They'd gone to the cemetery in separate cars. Jane had come along for the ride – probably feeling sorry even though she hadn't brought up the tension between him and Donna. She was a classy woman.

Donna was wearing sunglasses like most family members except Nanny. Solid and feisty; there was no caving possible on her part. The sun was about to shine and he would get to shield his eyes from her view too.

The more he stared, the more she felt out of focus – too tired to hurt, inner struggle misplaced and his will vanishing. He shifted his gaze from Donna to nearby graves. Sunken old grave with a cracked headstone; this was what would become of Jim's grave someday. His. Donna's. Maybe their kids' if there could even be a 'them' after the stunt she'd pulled and the wordless face-off he'd given her.

He couldn't tell how long he'd been staring at these graves, thinking life was pointless without someone to share it with. He'd shared most of his adult life with her in a way but it all felt incomplete. He thought about his dad. And how he felt the world dead on him when he passed away. Claiming it was okay when it wasn't. His father dying was brutal but it meant nothing compared to having to face his mother. What Donna was going through felt similar. Only with her it seemed exaggerated, aggravated and pain misguided. He couldn't blame her for any of this. Their situation was unhealthy specifically because she wasn't feeling well; but also because she had no time to analyze where they stood romantically. As sad as this truth was, sadness couldn't wreck him as much as not having a plan had.

Almost everyone was gone besides Donna and her immediate family. Done with placing soil in the grave, Donna's mother joined him, her strut similar to Donna's; she wasn't as tall as her daughter but she had the same grace about her. He could tell she was just like an effervescent tablet, ready to dissolve, leaving a trail of bubbles behind her. He was about to get trapped in that swirl.

"He wasn't the greatest businessman but he was the greatest of men."

"I'm truly sorry for you loss." He was. Even though he didn't like to sound repetitive but her words against Donna couldn't justify any comfort from him.

"I know what you think of me. Of the way I treated Donna last night." Of course the conversation would switch to her relationship with Donna.

"I felt like I was surrounded by kids at play."

"Next week's park day. I feel like you've been invited too many times before but never showed. How strange is that?" Her voice was low, her stare heavy. Uncoordinated and clearly, overstepping boundaries. She really embodied the bitter side of Donna and the full extent of her cut-throat repartee.

She was hinting at his relationship with Donna. The sleeping arrangements had led to the nastiest conversation he'd witnessed in a long time. He wasn't about to let her have the upper hand again. "You acted like a bully to her."

"Are you suggesting families aren't supposed to be complicated?"

"Not when you're burying a husband and father." He kept staring at Donna. She was watching attendees putting soil on the casket.

"Holly… Do I look like a therapist to you?"

"No, but I know you dated yours." So Donna had told her. Checked.

"When did she tell you?"

"This morning when she came crying into Nanny's arms. You were taking a shower."

He gulped. His privacy invaded more in the span of two seconds than he thought possible. But Donna hadn't crawled into her arms. "So eavesdropping, spying on people…" He couldn't finish that sentence. It was so Donna of her to do just that.

"She has this hole in her heart you know." And then she'd deflected. Only it felt too serious to trifle with. But he was mad. Mad at himself. Mad at Donna but most of all, he was mad at the woman whose husband had just been put in the ground.

"And you clearly helped her with that." He huffed.

"I don't know what's going on with you two and I certainly don't want to know."

"Good call. It's none of your business." Somehow he knew she was about to make it hers despite his warning.

"She's been in love with you for years. You ruined her for anyone else."

"I ruined her? Can you hear yourself right now?"

"I should be mad at you. But I can't," she sighed. "I mean, I don't even know where you stand."

"Where I stand is with her. And despite what you may think the time she and I shared – working together, being friends – was precious to me. Every goddamn moment of it. But she had a rule about dating in the workplace and I just… I didn't fight for her and moved on instead." He shook his head before adding. "And it was this close to being too late when I realized life had moved on without us."

"Well I guess she ruined you too."

"I didn't say that to make you think you're even the tiniest bit right about being angry at her."

"Harvey… I'm angry at her because..."

He wasn't about to stop her from spilling the beans.

"Because she didn't want to be like me. I told her to pursue you but she would hear none of it." She rested her hand on his shoulder. He didn't refuse the gracious touch. "She didn't push you to be with her like I did with Jim."

"What do you want me to say, Holly?"

"Love her." There was this distinct notion of infinity in her choice of words. Her tone soft as she'd said it. No sarcasm whatsoever. This plain truth echoed how forever they were.

He stopped her from leaving, grabbing her arm. "It won't be enough if you don't apologize to her."

She averted her eyes from him. This could be the end of a long ordeal. Even if he got nothing out of it, at least Donna would. And it was all that mattered to him. He watched her walk away before focusing on Donna again. She was staring at him, seeming annoyed. She looked like she was sighing and clenching her jaw.

The casket was being lowered down by the cemetery service workers. He wasn't fervently religious; he wasn't sure if he believed in God most of the time. But he kept on cursing his name on most days so maybe he wasn't too far gone. He said goodbye to Jim in his head, promising him he'd take care of his daughter but that he'd stay away from her if she asked.

What he'd been hoping for happened. Donna was walking towards him, taking him down to another kind of paradise – connection. She went to stand next to him and brushed the back of her hand against his. Whether this was intentional or not, he didn't care. It was there and he felt himself away from those graves, utterly alive again.

"I thought… you… didn't want to be near me." His own voice surprised him; his tone was uneven and perceptibly shaky.

Her answer was somehow not so different from what he'd expected. "What did my mother say to you?"

He knotted his fingers through hers. She gasped at the touch.

No rejection.

"She said that you and I are bound to be a sight to see." He kept staring aimlessly at her dad's grave; or the epitome of everybody's end and his had to be with her.

"She saw me crying this morning, didn't she?"

He panicked – always feeling that in-between closing in on him. Why get lost in things that didn't matter and dive headfirst in that bottomless ocean? Choosing to sink in favor of confusion; their dysfunctional selves brought about by loss and the sense that they'd always end up alone together. Words were futile at this point. Conversations useless. Apologies unnecessary.

"I love you."

He lowered his head towards her and watched her looking at their hands, entwined; all from the corner of his eye he noticed how she could be once again be the stability to his tremoring self-esteem.

"I know," she said barely above a whisper. "I love you too."

Maybe she had to be the one with a plan.

* * *

 **And that was chapter 6! Hope you liked it! And yes it was shorter than the last one but I thought you'd want a quicker update. Hit that review button and let me know what you thought! Already began writing chapter 7!**

 **I'd like to thank my OBFF/beta ashadesofblue who's working on her own fic. You'd better read it when she's done! It's a season 8 fic that's gonna rock your world especially if the show doesn't (which I know will somehow, I still have faith, no hope but a lot of faith! Yeah, I know you can't really have the one unless you have the other but I don't care, I could write an essay on how to separate both but I won't because I'm not that smart.)**

 **I know I haven't replied to you guys individually bc I've been quite busy and I probably won't but I wanted to let you know how much I appreciate your reviews, I read them constantly to keep me writing. I'm so thankful for those you have no idea. So again, thank you for taking the time to review.**


	7. Chapter 7

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Don't Give in to that Feeling

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VII – I won't ever be your cornerstone

They'd admitted to everything. Her hand was burning his but her eyes were digging beneath the surface of him, ready to call him on his bullshit to some degree. He'd still rejected her and he was waiting for the moment she'd break again. Specter couldn't play the woman; Harvey was too lost in her to try. His brain was so fucked up he was still hoping she'd overpower him and think of ways to lead them back onto some righteous path. His heart, however, was set on riding out that wave – holding on to her hand and love. He'd give up New York, the firm, anything for her at this point; even being a lawyer if that meant he could bury himself in the crook of her neck every second of every moment awake, kiss her pulse point, feel her alive underneath him and flat out fall in love with her every day.

Nanny and Holly came their way, breaking the moment he didn't want to see end. There was another woman with them – a petite blond who looked about Donna's age.

"Honey," the blond came forth and hugged Donna. His fingertips discovered void anew.

"Jennifer…"

"I'm so sorry about your dad." They kept holding each other's' hands and all he could think about was keeping hers safe in his again.

"Thank you." Donna managed to say. "Are you coming to the reception?"

"I am." Jennifer kept glancing between him and Donna.

"I'm sorry, this is Harvey." Donna introduced him with a wave of her hand. Former boss? Colleague? Friend? Best friend? What about boyfriend?

"Hi," he shook Jennifer's hand but said nothing of their status.

"And he is…" Jennifer did it for them anyway.

Donna looked at him, gulping and then back to her grandmother. He noticed Nanny mouthing something akin to 'future husband'.

"He's my… my partner." Donna revealed. This was the greatest kind of undefined. He hated this. It could mean everything and nothing at once. Fuck the English language. He thought about adding context to her answer but the lack of hand holding metaphorically advised him against it. Her answer seemed to have been enough for Jennifer anyway.

"Okay, I have to go back to the car. Jake, my husband, is waiting for me. We'll arrive soon. You and I need to catch up." Donna nodded at her friend although something seemed to have rubbed her off the wrong way.

"Mom's feeling a little tired and I think it's time to go, Donna." Holly was holding Nanny's arm protectively.

"Dan and Jane are taking us home," Nanny added. So that was it. They were making the decision for him to drive Donna home.

"Don't take too long," Holly finished and gave Harvey a glare that said it all. Whatever they needed to talk about, it could wait according to her at least until the day was over.

"Screw this. Give me your keys." Her tone was adamant.

"Are you sure you want to drive?" He reached for the keys in his pocket.

"I'm not sure of anything anymore."

VII

"Are we going back down South now?" He had to ask. She was driving them on the opposite direction.

"We're not going back to New York if that's what you're worried about." She was focused and didn't seem bothered by his permanent stare.

"I think the speed limit sign said–"

"Are you really gonna question my driving now?"

"No." His eyes went back on the road. He pursed his lips and added through gritted teeth: "Partner."

He could feel her narrowing her eyes at him. It was a quick angry glance but at least she had graced him with a look.

VII

"What is this place?"

She stopped the car down a small hill on the side of the road.

"Ready to climb?" She asked before exiting the car.

"Are _you_?" He unfastened his seat belt and joined her. "With these heels?"

"You'll be there to catch me if I fall, right?"

"Have you gone–?"

"Mad?" She chuckled. "See that path over here?"

He nodded.

"It leads to a couple of stairs that will make it easier for us to reach the top." She walked towards the beaten track he then realized looked like a hiking trail. He wondered if she'd used that 'ready to climb' line before. She sure had him fooled for a moment.

He groaned, caught up to her and grabbed her hand just to be safe. If she'd shivered at the touch, it probably was for a split second because she didn't stop her ascent.

They reached the top, walked past several lines of trees and eventually reached a cliff. The sight was breathtaking to say the least and yet, it didn't look natural; it seemed human made.

"I take it there is a reason why we're at this… lake."

She was staring in the distance, her fingers still entwined with his. "This is Whitney Point Reservoir."

"It looks deserted. Raw. But the view's amazing." He nudged her elbow. "Want to run down that cliff?"

She smiled. It was for him even though she wasn't looking at him and he loved it a thousand times more than if she had. "You're an idiot. I'm not falling for that."

"Totally safe. I've done it before." It wasn't. It was suicide. But a good way to make her smile again. "I can carry you if you want."

"You better not."

He cocked his head. "I know you want me to."

"I don't," she stated. But it made him want to do it even more. He moved in on her and started pulling her to him, his arms circling her waist. She rested her arms on his, gripping each elbow.

"Harvey…" she warned him. She felt so good against him.

"Okay, I won't," he began. "As long as we can stay like this… for just a moment at least."

The proposal felt somewhat indecent after what had happened in the morning. But she never pulled away.

She bobbed her head in the direction of the lake. "I used to come here with my dad. He liked fishing and I liked watching him. I used to go for a swim here during summer when the weather was clement enough. And then we lost the house and this became our safe spot. I used to take Nanny's car to meet up with Dad here. You know when he used to pretend he had too much work to do during the summer to stay with us in Cortland."

"So, this was like a secret rendezvous – except with your dad."

"Who says I didn't have other secret rendezvous?"

"You must have," he brought his hand rolled into a fist to his mouth and coughed. "Borrowed Nanny's car a lot."

"She knew about my boyfriend. She just didn't know when it was Dad I was meeting."

He arched a brow, relaxing at the easiness of their conversation. "Who was he?"

Her eyes met his. "Jake… Jennifer's husband."

"And you didn't know." He stroked her lower back.

"I didn't." She lowered her head.

"And this bothers you," he stated matter-of-factly.

She pushed him away. The movement so sudden he figured he'd said something wrong. "Really, Harvey? You think I brought you here so that I wouldn't have to see Jake?"

If he considered himself above her mess before, he felt pulled into it then. He was like a teenage boy whose girlfriend had cheated on him. "Well, you quickly changed your mind about going back to the house."

"You're impossible." She was fidgety, her steps leading nowhere. "I just buried my dad, Harvey."

Teenagers fought their way out of reason; it took two to play this game.

"Didn't stop you from doing something crazy before." This fight couldn't have been fairer. And yet deep down, he knew it wasn't. This was harsh and low.

"Oh, so I'm crazy now?" She turned to him, index finger pointing upward; her furious stance meant she'd reached her breaking point. He'd be treading on thin ice from this point on.

"You're not crazy," he tilted his head to the side, apologetically.

"You reject me in the middle of a blowjob and now you're acting jealous?"

"I didn't think it would be a good way to start the day."

"It would have been for me." She crossed her arms and rubbed her shoulders.

"It wouldn't have and you know it. You said it yourself. You wanted me to help you forget. Well that's not how I see our relationship developing, Donna." He took both her hands in his, forcing her to look at him. "What you're feeling right now is normal. You're grieving. I know it. I feel your pain and I want to make you feel better."

"So the little stunt you pulled last night… was that because you pity me?"

He licked his lips in annoyance, his eyes darting upward. "I feel like we've had this conversation before. I don't pity you. I wanted you to feel something other than pain for a moment."

"Well, congratulations, Harvey. You're a sex God. Only a little too fucking tragically Greek for my taste. Seriously, you getting me pregnant would have been the better outcome. Mom would've waxed lyrical."

His jaw thrusted forward. "I didn't want to take advantage of you."

"And I fucking wanted you to." She was out of breath. "You love me but you don't really want me. This is me and if I'm not enough for you as I am–"

"You are, Donna. You're way above and beyond enough."

"Then why did you make me stop?" She shouted.

"Because I didn't want you to stop!" The words had jumped right out of his mouth, ending a journey which had begun his heart, the throb of it insatiable; more than physical.

There was fire burning in her eyes, mirroring his. Now she knew how he was mentally pounding her every moment he was with her. Now she knew the extent of his weakness for her.

"Because I want you all the time. Because my brain so messed up that I want you even when you're at your most fucked up. Because I want to make your pain go away. Because I want to be there for you all the time." He paused and licked his lips. "Because I regret taking so long to accept my feelings for you."

"Accept?"

He was hugging his bones and skin. "I just told you how I feel about you and that's what you single out?"

"I've known how I felt about you all along. I never had to _accept_ them. They just were."

"What other way is there to say these things? I've had them all along too but there was your rule and then I thought you wanted to move on and–"

"So this is my fault."

"That is not what I meant. You're taking things out of context again. Why do you do that?"

"Am I some sort of second-hand next best choice to you?"

"Donna..." He placed his hands on her shoulders, slightly pressed down before trailing them up to her cheeks, brushing one with his thumb. "I don't know what to say to you anymore. It's like you're trying to push me away."

As if to ward off danger, she jerked her face away. "Don't say anything else. Just take me home." She tossed him the keys. "You're driving."

VII

The car ride had been silent except for a few words exchanged over directions to take.

She'd slammed the passenger door shut as soon as he'd parked.

"Donna…" he tried calling after her but she was back inside the house before he could close the door of the fucking car.

He opened the front door and stumbled on Dan.

"Hey, Harvey, I just saw Donna. Where have you been?"

"We were just… she needed some space."

It seemed to be enough for Dan. "Understandable. Listen, I need a couple of bottles of wine from the cellar. Can you go grab them for me?"

"Sure," he sighed and headed straight for the cellar.

A few minutes later, bottles in hand, he saw her walk down the stairs. She was gripping the banister, two steps above him at least. He could tell she'd removed her make-up; eyes red either from the product she'd used or tears. He couldn't help it, he had to say something. "Donna, can we talk please?"

She brushed him off and headed straight for the living room. This would be a long afternoon.

VII

He'd been drinking a few glasses of wine. Not enough to make him feel better. He'd watched her talk to acquaintances, many of them offering even more condolences and very likely reminiscing about Jim. He could tell there were some people she didn't want to talk to. The living room was filled with drunkards at this point. Oddly enough Holly didn't seem to be drinking much. She hadn't spoken to her daughter. Not even once. He took it upon himself to change that. He joined them by the window.

"Holly, can I talk to you?"

"Of course, Harvey."

"This way." He tilted his head and she followed him to the study.

He didn't close the door and spilled the beans, knowing fully well Donna would notice them talking. "You have to talk to Donna. She needs to hear what you told me."

"I don't know, Harvey. She doesn't want to talk to me." She took a sip from her drink.

"Well, she doesn't want to talk to me either right now and I get the feeling that I'm only half responsible."

"Okay."

"Good." Harvey nodded and watched her walk in the direction of Donna only to realize this didn't seem to be the right approach either. She'd seen her mother walking up to her and had darted out of the living room to God knows where in an instant. Holly turned around and had a look of defeat across her face. He felt for her. But most of all, he wondered if Donna could come around despite a face to face with her mother. He went over the table tray and poured himself some whisky this time.

Half an hour or more went by and he'd been introduced to several people by Jane and Nanny. The later kept calling him Donna's boyfriend. It tasted bitterer than the whisky soaking his tongue and buds. Donna hadn't shown her face for quite some time. He used all the restraint he had not to go look for her; she needed the space.

He wanted some distraction to cut loose. Dan was moving around like a waiter at this point so he asked him if he needed any help.

"Yeah, sure Harvey. Need red wine. Can you go grab me a couple of bottles of St Emilion?"

"Frenchin' it up, I see."

"We have great taste in this house," Dan teased.

"I'd rather have Scotch than Bourbon."

"A man after my own heart."

"St Emilion, gotcha."

He reached the hall and hesitated to go check if she was in her room for a minute. He must have looked so sheepish. He hated being this pathetic.

He heard noise coming from the stairs leading to the cellar. Donna. Laughing. She was with a man he'd seen next to Jennifer. Was this Jake?

The laughter cut short as soon as she noticed him.

"We haven't been properly introduced, Harvey Specter. Donna's boyfriend." He extended his hand to the married man.

"Jake Davenport," the man shook his hand. "I'm Jenny's husband."

"And my lovely redhead's ex," he said bitterly. If looks could erase people from existence, it was the intention behind hers.

"Well," he turned his face to Donna and offered her a smile. "We dated for a while." The man had definitely shrugged off the sarcasm intended behind his words. "That was… wow… something like twenty-something… years ago."

"He used to sneak up to my bedroom through the window." Low blow. She never averted her eyes from him. Was she that intent on making him jealous? He hated the way they were acting towards each other: teenagers; maybe blood-sucking creatures. Who would have the strongest bite?

"Donna I don't think–" Jake began but he certainly didn't want to have to listen to him. The interruption game was one of his favorites during depositions. Why change your tactics? Why change who you are? If it ain't broke, don't fix it.

"Funny, is this why you left your window open last night? Did you need to reminisce about something?" Nasty and on point; this was his kind of deposition.

She stormed off and rushed upstairs like Donna – only thirty years old younger.

"Hm… Listen Harvey, we just met downstairs, I didn't meant to–" The entire scene was beyond uncomfortable.

"I know Jake. I'm an ass. We've had a rough couple of days. You were making her laugh and I just snapped. I'm sorry."

Jake nodded and said: "Jennifer must be waiting for me. I'll see you later."

"Actually can you do me a favor Jake?"

"Sure."

"Can you go get some from the cellar? Dan needs more bottles."

"Yeah, no problem."

"Thanks."

He didn't think; he went straight to her room and banged at the door like a mad man. "Open the door, Donna."

"Screw you, Harvey." He heard her say from behind the door.

"So he gets to see you laugh but I don't? What am I to you? Some sort of puppet?"

"You had to jump in like that. The day I buried my father."

"What does burying the dead mean Donna, huh?"

No answer. Therefore he continued. "It means grieving, letting people in so you can talk about it. Deal with it like you did earlier at the reservoir."

"And then you got jealous over Jake!"

"I didn't. All I said was that you learning that he got married to your best friend bothered you."

He didn't hear her for a moment. Maybe this was getting to her somehow.

"It just reminded me that I never married… I'm just like my mom said. And I..."

He placed his hand on the door almost protectively as if he could soothe her through it; reach out to her once more.

"… just don't want to end up alone, Harvey."

"All you've been doing for the past two days is try to put us in the ground. Why?"

"Do you think it's easy? For me to trust you? You've been going behind my back, talking to my mom–"

"First of all, she came to me at the funeral."

"–thinking you can work your magic on her? You think you know her? Her love doesn't matter because I'll always be some sort of failure to her."

" _Second_ , your mom was showering in boozing until you arrived. She hasn't since you've been here."

This had the effect of stopping her rant.

Fifteen year old Donna didn't have repartee, he realized. She was daddy's little girl. She wasn't sassy. What made it even worse was the fact that he'd acted like a jealous fifteen-year old too. Only he'd acted like it whereas she was reenacting those years – impersonating her younger self, somehow reliving the whole thing under this roof; and definitely missing her dad more than she had at the time. That explained Whitney Point. This day was a never-ending nightmare – taking her back to her teenage self. And she was unable to endure it like an adult; for her favorite adult was gone.

"Maybe it's a sign that she wants to say she's sorry about her behavior towards you," he finished.

She was silent again. "Open the door, Donna."

She didn't. He licked his lips, his fingertips almost digging into that wooden door. "You know… I don't want to end up alone either."

He sighed and thought about all the times he could have done things differently. How he could have prevented this hadn't he chose that precise moment to ask her out on a date; exposing himself and the idea of them to her. The impasse they were at didn't feel like one. This was a combination of factors – him asking her out, her losing her dad and family ties that were fragile. But her father could now rest in peace, grieving would take time but at least she could set herself on that path. Her mother was another issue. But there seemed to be light at the end of that tunnel. He rushed down the stairs as quickly as he'd come up.

Nanny was waiting for him downstairs. "Where are you going in such a hurry?"

"Nanny, do you have any plans for tonight?" Why was he so out of breath?

"We're having dinner with some of the guests," she paused, eyeing him suspiciously, "but if you have other plans…"

"I do. Thank you, Nanny." He kissed her cheek and asked, "Where's Dan?"

"I think I saw him in the backyard, exiting the cellar… again. I wonder how many bottles are left…"

"Definitely not enough for what I'm about to do," he smiled. He was beaming and he didn't even know if she'd say yes.

He left the house and checked the tree by her window. How that guy could climb up there, he had no idea.

He asked Dan if there was a ladder somewhere.

He would never be her cornerstone but he could still be her anchor.

VII

He placed the rusty metal step ladder against the wall, the tip of it reaching just a little under her window. He'd asked Dan to stay and hold it still. He started climbing up, feeling wobbly on his legs. He could stare at the New York Skyline for hours but climbing wasn't his strongest suit; the house was huge and that damn window all too high. He kept staring back and forth between the ground – he'd estimated at least 9 feet beneath him now, and her window. A little over half way there; 4 feet to go, he kept telling himself. He breathed in and out loudly, trying to get rid of that fear of heights.

She must have heard him and the creaking sound coming from each step because she opened her window. She stuck her head out. He couldn't rely on the element of surprise anymore, simply because it was happening all too soon; he thought he had a couple more steps to think things through. It drove him round the bend.

"What the hell are you doing, Harvey?"

"I'm still wondering myself actually." He half closed his eyes, the ground was way too far.

"Is this because of what I said about Jake?"

"Do you think he could tell me how he did it?"

"He never did you idiot! I was lying. Dan, why didn't you tell him it was dangerous!"

"He wouldn't have listened to reason. Besides this is the highlight of my day!" The bastard was grinning but somehow it didn't make him feel like a fool. Harvey joined him on the laughter.

"Stop laughing, Harvey and get down now!" Was she scared he might fall? He certainly was but she didn't need to know that.

"I didn't come all the way up here to stop." He climbed up the last couple of steps. He was going too fast and suddenly slipped on one of the steps.

"Harvey!" She practically screamed.

He thought his heart stopped, even more so at hearing her frightful tone. He thanked his good grip on the rails, his upper body strength and God all at once. He held on tight and placed his foot back on the step.

"Careful Harvey," Dan began.

"Almost there." A couple more steps and he'd finally set his palms flat on the edge of her window.

He noticed her reaching her hand out to him.

He shook his head no.

"Just get in here, Harvey." She signaled for him to take her hand and use it for support.

"Not until you agree to go out with me tonight."

"What?"

"You heard me."

"Do you really think today's the day I want to go out with you?"

"I know it's not."

"What about a month from now?"

"A month from now and then another one and then it'll be a year. I don't want to wait another decade." He placed one his palm against his chest and said. "I'm willing to dig up my own grave here but I know I won't have any regrets."

"You acting like a drama queen isn't gonna work!"

"I was hoping you'd say you weren't ready to lose me but I can work around that."

"Dan? I think I got this now," he spoke loudly and peeked at Dan.

"Dan you better not get your hands off that ladder!"

"Sorry Donna, I can hear Jane calling me."

"She didn't!" Donna's frightened look was becoming so adorable he almost forgot he was 14 feet above the ground.

He was probably gone now and it was just them.

"You think you're funny? You're playing with death even though I just suffered through a huge loss."

"There's nothing funny about death, Donna." He hated having to be serious again. But she had to understand where all of this was coming from. "And trying to forget is just as twisted as this situation is." He noticed her gulp.

"This is just a ploy to get me to agree. You know this isn't right."

"Did I say it was?"

"Harvey…"

He wasn't going to get away with this unless he did something drastic. He sighed, fisted the rails with more strength and started shimmying; this made the ladder wobble. "I think I'm gonna fall."

"Grab my hand you Goddamn idiot!"

He moved faster until he sensed he was reaching his own demise. She jutted forward and grabbed each rail. "Okay!" She paused and he stopped fidgeting. "I'll go out with you."

"Tonight?"

She briefly closed her eyes and nodded in agreement. He grinned like an idiot and climbed through the window, using the ledge as support. She took a couple of steps back to let him in.

"Okay one more time," he began, leaving barely inches between them.

"I'll go out with you."

"With feeling."

She cocked her head to the side and pursed her lips. "Don't push it."

"If I hadn't, we wouldn't be standing here." He cupped her cheek and brushed his thumb against the corner of her lips.

"You're really not gonna make this easy on me, are you?"

He smirked and mimicked her posture. "You know me too well."

She tried to suppress a smile but failed miserably; and it was only for him to see this time.

* * *

DGITTF

DGITTF

 **And that was chapter 7. We're nearing the end fangirls! Next chapter will be the last. Don't hesitate to review previous chapters, especially if you liked them and then review the hell out of this one! I'll try to do right by you guys and give you a big finale!**

 **I'd like to thank my OBFF / BETA Alternateshadesofblue for her constant support, surgical interventions and inspiration (THE LADDER WAS MINE THOUGH). Thank you for taking so much time away from your wonderful fic called Hyper Focus. Is it a Sci-Fi fic? ^^**

 **I'd like to thank, again, all the people who reviewed so far and everyone on Twitter. You've been so supportive of this unexpected fic. And I'm really grateful for it. Don't hesitate to send me PMs or DMs on twitter if you feel like I've been neglecting you in terms of individual thanks.**

 **(pimpin' note) Next chapter coming up soon! Hit that review button. ;)**


	8. Chapter 8

================================VV================================

Don't Give in to that Feeling

================================VV================================

VIII – It's in the water, it's in the story.

The ladder declaration was bound to be a sight to see. And clearly, it had been. With the happiest of smiles, he'd kissed her cheek once; then taken in the beauty of the smile that wasn't his own and had kissed her other cheek.

"Put some jeans on and whatever top and shoes you'll feel comfortable in."

He told her to be ready in twenty minutes and left her room. Those were the fastest twenty minutes of his life. He'd spent them running around the house, asking Nanny, Dan and Jane for some help in the kitchen to prepare sandwiches with leftovers. He'd grabbed the necessary high-quality wine – also known as teenage booze considering the amount of time he'd spent choosing the bottles. That amount being practically null and devoid of oenological intelligence. He felt lighthearted, passionate enough to let go of the fear of doing things right. It was an impulse; a living-in-the-moment attitude. Without a care in the world, Jim's buried body far from his mind and very likely closer to hers still, he discarded all negativity and put his need to have her to himself first.

He'd taken his jacket and tie off, sleeves rolled back. Holly handed him a basket to put the food, glasses and cutlery in. He went outside, parked the car in front of the porch and put the basket on the backseat. He walked back into the house and waited for her. He was way ahead of time. Panic rose up in him. What if she'd changed her mind? He'd been so focused on himself; he'd forgotten the ladder was gone. He had no leverage. His imminent death – albeit fake – was out of the realm of possibilities. She could say no. She could stay in her room and leave him carefree on his own. He was pacing around the hallway, eyeing his feet, always looking down at all he saw while the rest of the family entertained the remaining guests for his benefit. Shaping his heart to accommodate hers again, doubt stalling release some more, he felt the opportunity to be with her slip away like the whimsical success of climbing up a ladder to play Romeo had.

The second she'd walked down the stairs, all he could see was them riding away – already long gone from this place – for a moment, a night, and a reality without failure, grief or pride that would be theirs and theirs alone. Time lost and found, fantasy touching upon life, tears of sweat pouring out of that spongy brain with the distinct feeling of having accepted that drunken haze you only get from a summer heatwave.

Clad in jeans and a white top tank, a light cardigan under her arm, she wasn't smiling. She was beaming with shyness. Rosy cheeks captured the remnants of tears but had her composure betrayed how flushed they were from the possibilities the impromptu date offered. She'd traded her dad for him. Jim like all fathers was most likely frowning upon it.

But the daughter was a woman; the kind of woman a man couldn't leave unsatisfied. Therefore his eyes never left hers. And he would keep all his focus on her so long as she wanted him to. He'd count on the night for a brighter day tomorrow; he'd be her night – he'd risk that fall for her until she would beg to shine underneath his view and body.

"Shall we?" He offered her his arm.

She eyed his arm. "Are you going to climb up that ladder again if I say no?"

He hesitated but he didn't want to laugh anymore. He just wanted her all to him. Honesty would have to do. "No."

"Then let's go." She accepted his arm and walked to the car alongside him.

He opened the passenger door for her and heard Nanny calling out to them. "You kids have fun!"

Dan and Jane waved them goodbye as well. He started the car, headed to the end of the driveway and noticed Donna turning around. From the rearview mirror, he could see Holly having her eyes on the car from one of the living room windows.

He couldn't help but ask: "Are you okay?"

She didn't turn around and said: "I'm fine."

She didn't sound like it.

VIII

She'd skillfully avoided all kinds of conversations by turning the radio on. Window rolled down with her hair flying in all directions from the wind. He noticed she had her eyes closed, breathing the hot air in. It was a pretty straight forward road. He wasn't afraid to take a wrong turn. He took a chance on taking peaks at her face, her neck; the pendant was still around her neck. Her dad was here but her walls seemed to have come down. He'd dragged her away from her own dad's funeral day after all. What did it say about him? What did it say about her for agreeing to this? She'd torn out his heart the day he met her. Obstacles. Too many of them scattered across thirteen years of longing. He wouldn't let that chance slip away again. He was careful glancing at her, eyes never fully on the road. The full Donna Paulsen-outside-of-work experience was unfolding for his pleasure alone. Death certainly hoovered in the background and she was a ticking time bomb that needed an escape. But she'd been the perfect human being to him all this time. He wanted to be the same and not waste another moment away from them. Licking his lips at the sight of her hardened nipples, he didn't care about being this obvious.

"Stop staring." She'd kept her eyes closed.

"Am I that obvious?"

"You know I can tell when a man wants me, right? Even when I'm working with him."

"So how come you thought you didn't need to wear a bra to get my attention?"

"You said casual. Aren't you okay with what I'm wearing?"

"I'm always okay with what you wear."

She turned her head slightly to the left and said, opening her eyes. "Good. Now, just shut up and drive."

VIII

They arrived at the reservoir around 7:30pm. It was a week day so there was relatively enough space for them to be alone. Families were leaving. He really wanted this to feel quiet and homy enough for her to feel comfortable.

"The reservoir?" She asked as soon as they reached the place.

"You said you liked it here. I thought it would be appropriate."

He maneuvered around the parking lot and stopped the car having found a spot without any cars around.

"A teenage dream come true," she replied sarcastically.

"I don't want to go anywhere else." He was deadest on the idea, turning his head to stare her in the eyes.

"Why?"

"Because you're the wo–" he stopped himself, thinking his next words. "You're the girl I wanted to go on my first summer date ever with, and that was some twenty–"

"Okay, no need to bring up how old we are." She smirked and licked her lips too. "Do you really want me to say I wish I'd gone out with you instead of Jake?"

"Do you really need to say it?"

"You realize we didn't even know each other back then." She raised a brow.

"But I knew she wasn't the one."

"God you're so full of it."

"Is _it_ working?" He waggled his eyebrows.

She tilted her head to the side. "What are you trying to say here, Harvey? That I'm the woman you wish you could go back in time for?"

"I'm saying you're the woman of my life."

This had the desired effect. Mouth agape, she'd been rendered speechless.

He got out of the car and grabbed the basket. He noticed her exiting the car as well and grabbed her hand to help her up.

"Ready for that date, Donna?"

"As ready as I'll ever be I guess."

He walked with her, hand in hand to the spot he'd realized was the place where teenage dreams came true, by the pontoon. The place where she and her dad used to go fishing together. The lake and its surroundings looked just as beautiful here as it did from the hill. There wouldn't be anyone but them here. Just like he wanted.

"Is here okay?" He set the basket on the grass.

She nodded. "It is." The twitch in her eyes didn't go unnoticed to him. She was holding her pendant like a cross.

He unfolded a small blanket and sat down, patting the spot next to him for her to join him.

She sat down beside him. He probably took himself more off-guard than he did her by grabbing her hand and jerking her towards him so she would lie partly next to him and on top of him. His thumb graced her cheek and he said: "Look up to the sky with me before it turns dark."

She wanted to kiss him again. "Stop staring at my lips."

"Stop staring at mine."

"Just because I can't help it doesn't mean I want to kiss you now." His thumb moved dangerously close to her bottom lip.

"You always want to kiss me Harvey."

"I do. But I want you and I to remember this more than ourselves. At least for now," he winked at her.

"Fine. I'll do as you ask." She lied down completely, back against the blanket. "Oh what a beautiful sky!"

Her tank top was short enough to offer him a beautiful view of her tone stomach and navel.

"Stop making fun of this," he said, placing a hand against her stomach, enjoying the feel of her skin. His eyes had tuned into every curve; her arms, neck, breasts, groin region and never-ending legs were his to get lost into. The sky didn't matter.

"How's the sky?"

"Cloudless."

"Good."

"I want to believe my dad's up there, you know." This wasn't unexpected. He'd wanted her to welcome it. He noticed a tear escaping her eye.

"And whatever you choose to believe, I'll agree with your decision."

"I'm not always right Harvey." She never took her eyes off the sky.

"I'm willing to accept your crazy. I've been doing it for years."

"You think me crazy? You're the perv staring at a defenseless woman right now!"

"I think you're exaggerating. I'm merely appreciating your–"

"Just do what you asked me to do, Harvey." She placed her hand under his chin and moved his head so that he could face the sky too. "Stare at infinity."

He looked up to the sky for a moment before pulling her closer to him, bracing her head with his arm. "I am."

"I'm not immortal, Harvey." She hugged his chest.

His first reflex was to caress the hair at the top of her head, soothingly. "But this is, Donna."

VIII

She'd fallen asleep in his arms. The blue sky had been replaced by night. The Western World was theirs alone for another 8 hours. He didn't want to chance on waking her up but it seems a bee had done it for him.

"I'm sorry, I must have fallen asleep." She stirred from whatever fantasy land her mind had conjured up.

"Sweet dreams?" He asked the somewhat unfazed look on her face.

"Not really." She sat up straight and added. "I'm hungry though."

He handed her a sandwich, "I tried building a fire but then I remembered what I read online. You're not authorized to start a fire in the reservoir park."

"I've never heard of such a thing." She scratched her eyes, the light of the smartphone torch that he'd placed on the blanket against the basket was burning her eyes.

"Honestly, I just have limited skills."

"It's okay," she said, taking a bite of her sandwich. She paused and took another. She huffed.

"What's wrong?" There was something wrong about the sandwich even though he couldn't see her fully; the moon, the stars and the torch being their only source of light.

"Who made this?"

"I don't know. I guess Dan or–"

"My mom made this."

"Are you sure?" He asked with a mouthful of bread, mayonnaise and pastrami to chew on.

"Harvey, I can't see the grass beneath me, I can't really see you but I can tell when it's my mom playing a trick on me."

"I'm not following." He hoped she'd get how truthful he was about this. He had no idea what was going on.

"This is one of my dad's sandwiches. Mom used to prepare him sandwiches every day before he went to work," she paused some more. "This is Thursday's Velvet Pastrami."

"She gave them names too?"

"No, he did."

"It's very good." He could tell she was rolling her eyes at him.

"That's not the point. She did that on purpose. I need to know why. We should go home." She sounded pissed.

"Donna…" He noticed her trying to get up and stopped her. "Donna, why can't it be that she just wanted to do something nice?"

"Don't you see? She wanted to ruin my date. She wanted me to think about Dad."

"Donna, you haven't really stopped thinking about him anyway. I even made you think of him earlier."

"That's not the same. You're trying to make this easy on me. She's–"

"I think she's just trying to connect with you. This was a nice attention, Donna."

"How can you know this?"

"Because I told her to make amends with you earlier. But you ran away," he sighed and scratched his head. "I think this is her way of apologizing to you."

"And you can tell that because of a sandwich?"

"This is a good sandwich. She didn't try to poison us, did she?" He took another bite, laughing. "Just eat your goddamn sandwich and stop analyzing everything."

"You just did by saying she wanted to apologize."

"Shut up and eat."

"Fine."

"Donna?"

"What now?"

"I think there's something stuck in my throat… I feel…dizzy…"

"I'm not falling for it."

"Donnnaaaa." He was on the verge of laughing again.

"I'm already eating it. It's okay though, I'm willing to test my stomach's resolve."

He sighed again. "You're no fun."

"Give me some wine and you'll see how I can be tons of fun."

He could have sworn there was a sparkle in her eye at that moment; and underlying mischief in there somehow. He moved the torch in front of her face.

"What the hell are you doing?" She shielded her eyes with her hands.

"Just testing a theory."

"Well are you done?" Annoyance didn't cover the full range of emotions she was going through at this point. He laughed internally at the fact that she could make him fear for his life.

He placed the torch back on the blanket. "I am. Food poisoning didn't affect your beauty."

There was nothing to see but he could tell she enjoyed him complimenting her on it.

They finished their food and had no more than two glasses of wine. They'd discussed their journey back to New York in the morning.

"We don't have to leave tomorrow, you know?" He recorked the bottle of wine.

"I don't have anything else to do here. The funeral's over. We should head back."

He knew she didn't want to have that chat with her mother. Yet, somehow, he hoped tonight would change her mind.

"What if I'm not ready to go back yet?"

"How is that even up to you?"

He rose up and walked away from her in the direction of the water.

"Harvey?" She asked again. "Harvey what are you doing?"

He took his shoes and socks off and tested the water. "It's warm."

"It's Summer, Harvey. The water has to be warm with this heat. Now, why the hell don't you want to leave tomorrow? You have work and–"

"You need to work things out with your mother." He'd chosen his words carefully, imitating her own from years ago about his own unresolved situation.

"I don't want to talk to her. I just can't. Harvey, don't make me do this, please." She paused and asked again, "Harvey…"

She stopped herself. She must have figured out it was pointless to speak. He wasn't going to answer her anymore.

He breathed the night air in, silently hoping she'd join him by the moonlit water.

Her mind must have gone to all sorts of places for a minute later, her heard her walk up to him and then head in another direction. He turned his head to the pontoon and saw her walk across it, having discarded her shoes and jeans on the way. Left in her tank top and panties, he saw her jump in the water.

"Donna?" She hadn't reached the surface again. "Donna? That's not funny anymore."

He kept calling out to her until he saw that magnificent silhouette of her slowly rise above the water to waist level.

"Fake drowning, really?"

She couldn't help but retort. "Fake poisoning?"

"Skinny dipping?" He acted surprised.

"Silent treatment?" But then they could be two to play this game.

"Fair point."

A minute had passed. Whatever she was trying to wash away, he wanted nothing more but to clear a path through that silent flow. She never asked him to join her, he just did. He took his pants off, followed by his shirt and walked through the water to where she was.

He was a couple of feet away from her when he made his first attempt at communication again. "I can see you better from here."

"Do you like what you see?"

Her wet hair fell flat on each side of her face, her eyes were intensely focused on him and her mouth was slightly open.

"Do you?" He smirked.

He could see her biting her lip. He walked up closer to her, the water engulfing his waist line, slapping his groin with every step. She was so natural and his need for her was stiff and primal. He could see her breasts clearly now, enlarged darker rings dotted both her breasts showing through under her drenched top. There was something disarming about her and ferocious at the same time. He felt more like a prey than a believer bringing some offering to a high priestess. She was a beacon, delicate in the semi-darkness. She looked sleek with her yoga framed figure. Like an oracle in that closed immensity of a lake, she was a vision a man couldn't stop experiencing desire from, sending truth beyond words, with looks to die from for sole support into a not so uncertain future.

A smirk hit his lips. She'd been lingering too long too. Probably just as attracted to his naked torso as he was to her chest.

"It's nice seeing you like this," she tentatively said, eyeing and grazing his chest with her fingers.

He bent his head to look at her soft hand, tracing the lines of his torso. He pulled her closer and felt her breasts press up against him.

"Why'd you leave your top on?" He rested his forehead against hers.

"Cause it's nice seeing you like this. Distraught…" Pausing, she reached down to his boxers and placed her hand in them. "Wishing you could have me whole right now."

"One wrong move from you and I just might," he warned her, feeling her search for the right position to circle his length.

She began stroking him lightly. "You can't stop me from finishing this."

"Shouldn't we… swim together first?" He grunted, tilting his head back at the feeling of her hand on him.

She kissed his jawline seductively. "We're way passed playing here, don't you think? Splashing each other with water to signal the need to fool around?"

"I guess so…"

Her breathing intensified with her exertion.

"Donna…if this is like earlier…" Pleasure grew within him, a hot feeling in his stomach, warmer than the water surrounding him. He inhaled the windy sky that gave him no chills, her sweet rhythm creating the most erotic temperature there was.

"It's not." She stopped her side-to-side movement and took her hand out of his boxers.

"See?" She asked, kissing his collarbone, Adam's apple and then ear. "I can stop if you want me to."

He grabbed her legs and circled his waist with them, propping her up slightly. She placed her arms around his neck and began moving up and down against him.

"Kiss me, Harvey."

When his hand slid around her neck, he killed his own resistance by crashing onto her mouth, his tongue penetrating her flesh. There was nothing pretty about it. He was desperate in his attempt; he'd taken her by surprise with that kiss. This was too needy, as if he were still young and inexperienced. He was suffocating against her hot breath; even if he was tearing her mouth apart, it didn't seem to matter. She was responding with the same kind of fervor. Trying her best to destroy him too, battling his tongue with hers and then biting his bottom lip almost to the point of drawing blood. This filled his body from head to toe, invigorating him for more. He took the upper hand again, opening her mouth wider with every slide of his lips on hers, wetting her, tongue digging deeper, leaning his head even closer to hers, and building the kind of passion that forbade gentleness. He relished the idea of seeing her defeated, crumbling against him. That moment never came. She panted against him, mouth wider still, capturing him again, trapping him between her lips. This was better than winning. It was a never ending battle of will. He moved his arm between them and descended his hand to her panties, slipping it inside. She almost caved for a moment, mouth hanging against his, trying to lick his lips one last time before arching her back to the feeling of his fingers against her folds.

She grabbed his hand and stopped him before he could have her surrender to him. Closing her eyes, she settled in the crook of his neck as she disentangled herself from his waist.

She kissed his neck again, the light touch more tantalizing than her words. Her breath got stuck in her throat as she said her next words. "This is about me being there for you right now." She reached for his crotch again, swiftly. "Please, don't tell me to stop anymore."

He closed his eyes and pleaded: "Donna, don't stop."

She began her build-up again, stroking to full fast motion, moving about his waistband to switch angles. She freed him from his boxers, accompanying the motion of his cock jerking upright and stroked him faster. His breathing was erratic. As if he needed help supporting himself, having desired her all this time, he nestled his head in the crook of her neck and bit at the flesh. She ran her hand through his hair, tugging hard at times. He hugged her close and felt like his fifteen year old self again, unable to look the girl he liked in the eye as she was about to make him come.

She caressed his neck and gasped feeling that spasm that rushed from his balls to the tip of his cock. The air felt chiller for a split second and then warm again. But this didn't have anything with changing weather. This was him and all of her doing. He couldn't focus or feel anything else. Everything felt numb but his penis. As if she'd rolled him up and squeezed him hard, he emptied himself and gasped. His orgasm had put him at the most mysterious he'd felt in years. Maybe it was just the fact that it was her doing – her body next to his, her hand – and he hoped her love for him that made him feel that out of body experience. Her angel hands hovered over his once throbbing dick and moved up to this waist, settling under his navel comfortably. He left the crook of her neck and felt her hand touch his face.

"You're ruggedly handsome with that stubble, you know that?" She smiled the softest of smiles. He could tell she was searching his face, so he met her eyes.

"I love you." It was all he could think of to say.

"I'll have you know you dance around my fingers in strange conditions mister," she kept joking. Maybe she'd felt it too. That intangible feeling that they were just it. That infinity. More than a working relationship, more than friends and beyond a simple love affair.

"Say you love me too." He kissed her lips gently.

"I love you too," she said against his lips. "Let's go back to shore."

"I'm standing on two very wobbly legs here, would you mind staying like this for a moment?"

"You'll never stop surprising me, Harvey Specter."

"I'm glad, Donna Paulsen."

VIII

Pressed up against him and so at ease to face nighttime, he'd put his right arm around her shoulders to keep her close. Donna had turned the volume of some random radio station up. That tiny compartment had never been so quiet and so loud at the same time. The music and his heart, the sound of her voice as she hummed to the song playing, he didn't remember if he'd ever had a woman's breath tickle the skin on his neck. The windows were still down on each side. There wasn't anything that could top driving his sports car before but now that she was here with him, barriers down, nothing was so certain anymore. With barely any cars on the road, the stars and the moon for sole natural light, he felt like a stowaway. He'd engaged her into the night hoping for reconciliation and he'd gained so much more.

They'd made it to Courtland within half an hour. He parked the car, without speeding too much from fear of waking the whole house up. She got out of the car faster than him and to his surprise, went to open the door for him. She extended her hand and helped him out. He couldn't believe how lucky he'd been for thirteen years. He should have believed it sooner. Donna led him to the front door and opened it with her own set of keys.

She didn't turn the lights on. They could see clearly enough anyway with the moon's blueish reflection entering the French door lights. He noticed her looking around the hall a little before dropping the basket in the kitchen. She came back in the unlit doorway and grabbed his hand. He caught her arm before she could walk upstairs and made her turn around.

"Thank you for tonight," he whispered. He wasn't expecting anything more. She had the reins; she'd turned the evening around in her favor and to his benefit. But it seemed she wouldn't have had it any other way.

She placed her index finger on his lips. "Sshh. You don't want to wake Nanny up."

"You were the one who was loud last night," he mumbled against her finger.

He could tell she wanted to scold him but teased him instead. "I can be quiet."

His jaw tightened and his gaze darkened dangerously. "What if I don't want you to be?"

"What's the fun in that?" She retorted, before leading him upstairs.

They were two forty-something-year olds acting like teenagers, trying to sneak past her parents' bedroom. She opened her bedroom door and walked in, leading him to her bed with her fingers so determinedly wrapped around his hand that he had trouble closing the door shut without a bang.

He made a sorry face and mouthed it honestly. She snickered, took her sandals off and pounced, pushing her hands up beneath his shirt. Feeling her trace the V of muscle on his pelvis, his abs hardened against her fingertips. He toed off his shoes. The fact that he hadn't put his socks back on was one of the best decisions he'd made in a while. She slowly unbuttoned his shirt and soon got to yank it off him. She was the embodiment of everything he fantasized about. Who he'd desperately coveted for so long, refusing her, allowing her to be anybody else's but his because he couldn't man up. But then he'd danced with her, he'd allowed himself to have a chat with Scottie about relationships, he'd gotten her back and undone what he never should have done in the first place. Her more had made him run away from the truth and into the arms of someone he should never have dated. Donna's unwelcomed kiss had been the necessary slap across his face. She'd awakened him.

Her red hair, white skin and instinctual eyes had always made him feel pure primal male – ready to hunt and protect. She was the prey; she was different. She was his family; she wasn't indifferent anymore. And now he could stare unabashedly at her. He wanted her to see just how much she made him feel.

"Where are you at, handsome?" she asked, having paused at his pants.

He cupped her cheek and attacked her lips. She whimpered as he removed her hands from his pants. All the fantasies he'd had about her removing his pants would disappear for this nighttime resurrection. On an emotional level, their long-distance relationship was gone. On a physical stratum, all the wet dreams were far from his mind. He whipped her loosened top off before she could take a full breath and fought to wrestle her jeans down as slowly as possible; his hands cruised up her thighs as he squatted down to kiss each of them languorously.

"I'm right here." He ran his lips along her panties and sucked on the fabric shielding her groin from view, tugging and pulling down some with his teeth.

"Harvey," she breathed as he kept kissing her sensitive spot. Removing the item of clothing with both hands, he enjoyed the view of her perfect legs as he discarded it completely; admiring her mound up close, he caressed the patch of hair with his fingers.

He slowly rose up from his position and gripped the hem of her now dried tank top. She was staring at him. Was it apprehension? Desire? All in one? Whatever it was, he looked at her with his hands; his eyes too enthralled by her disrupted ones and began lifting her top. All he had to do was transfer his focus onto her, thumbs grazing the contours of her breasts as his hands covered her shoulder blades.

Before he knew it, she was urging him on. Her hands came in contact with his. Fidgeting with the hem, she helped him lift it from the front, crossing her arms over her chest and pulled it over her head. Taken aback, he took in the sight of her breasts bouncing free. She then kissed him feverishly, her nipples brushing provocatively against his hard chest. He dragged the zipper of his pants as she placed her hands near his ass and caught both the waistbands of his boxers and pants. She left his lips to yank them down swiftly.

What he felt for her at that moment, seeing the heat in the deep of her moonlit eyes was so intense it was painful. All this time they could have been like this, desiring each other, saying goodbye to the suits and ties, dresses and clothes that made them who they were; barriers which symbolized so much more than work to them.

He hoisted her up between his arms; losing all sorts of balance from kissing her, they landed on the bed and rolled across the mattress in a tangle until he trapped her under him. She scissored her legs with his and tried to roll him but he was the strongest one. And heavier. He lifted his head and showed her just how smug he was about how he wanted to fuck her.

He could tell everywhere he touched left trails of soft fire on her skin. Intoxicating him with her smell, every bit of flesh his lips grazed, his tongue touched and licked upon tasted of freshwater and years of perfume and body wash worn now welcoming him for the taking.

He kissed her slowly, licking into her mouth the way he'd always wanted to with his hand supporting the back of her head. He could tell he was watching her the right way; he was acknowledging the longing he'd felt. She ran her hands through his disheveled hair. The crisp hair of his groin merged with her silky one. His greed and the silence of his demand as he caressed the length of her torso from breast to hip had her moan in anticipation. Nibbling and licking across her shoulder, he slid down and sucked on each nipple. Tightened to the point where the line between pleasure and pain wouldn't be an issue anymore, he caught one of them between his teeth which had her arching her back and thrashing at the onslaught. He soothed her soft cry by taking a larger mouthful of nipple and breast.

She seemed to be falling so fast, he couldn't believe that he was the one doing this to her; the wetness between her thighs being the main indicator. As she searched for spots that made him growl and moan, his dick hardened with every soft suck. The way she stroked and kneaded his chest and limbs drove him wild. She lowered her hand to his cock and stroke him some more. His cock felt thicker in her hand; hard as stone. Every goddamn time.

"Donna," he groaned against her cheek and buried his face in the crook of her neck at the sensation. His moans vibrated against her swollen flesh.

He would fall louder if he didn't take her right now. She stroked her sex with him and attempted a shallow penetration.

He propelled himself up. "Do you have a cond–"

"Trust me," she said easing him into her. He closed his eyes and lost himself in her for a moment, delaying any hasty movement to enjoy the feeling of her. He stretched himself on top of her, adjusting into a better position. He began thrusting slowly, remembering how she felt then, crystalizing how she felt now. Pulsating faster as he thrust deeper into her sex, his eyes flickered up under his lashes to take her face in. He noticed tears stinging her eyes; a single tear having run down her cheek. Completely out of sync with his throbbing self, he stilled, reached for her face, stroked her hair and asked. "Donna what is it?"

"I'm just happy," she let out after a sob.

He smiled down at her and bent over to kiss her lips softly before resting his forehead against hers. "And I'm glad you can feel the way I feel."

She searched his lips, giving away sweet kisses. He felt her run her hands from his back to his ass and urged him forward.

He'd hankered after her for so long he didn't care that this wasn't the wildest of sexual dreams. He never got to pound into her hard, never secured her orgasm by stroking her clit. He'd made love to her in the most old-fashion way possible. And it had been no less devastating for being gentler. Feeling her writhe to his rhythm, he'd felt her convulse and ripple along his thrusts. Her hushed cry outmatched everything because all he could see, feel and hear was her. And it was louder than the beating of his heart.

VIII

He felt the morning sun heat his eyes and opened them slowly. The bedsheet felt soft and the covers hugged him close. But she hugged him closer still, wrapped in his arms. He observed her sleeping form and kissed her temple. The intensity of their date and night together lingered for a moment on his mind. He wanted her again but she was too adorable to wake up. Everything that had happened had taken its toll on her. She'd gone through hell and back into his arms. And sleep was the most important thing he could grant her right now. She wasn't going anywhere. He was sure of it.

Her soothing warmth made him feel so light in his soul that his eyes seemed heavy; as if he hadn't slept in years. Ironic how Donna Paulsen could cure years of unrestful sleeping patterns, wasn't it?

He woke up sometime later and was quicker in being aware of his surroundings than he had earlier. She was gone. He'd woken up from a dream into a nightmare. His heart was beating all too fast; he got out of bed and slipped on his shirt and pants. Barefoot, he checked the bathroom and eventually rushed downstairs. He opened the living room doors and saw Nanny, Dan and Jane deep in conversation.

"Harvey!" Jane greeted him.

"Where's Donna?" He asked, eyes darting all over the room, without really waiting for an answer.

"She's–" Dan began.

He never got the end of it for he heard people in the kitchen. His eyes scanned the adjacent door; it was opened enough for him to hear her voice. He let out the breath he didn't think he held. His trust issues had to go away. She wasn't gone. She hadn't left. He peeked inside and saw Donna chatting with her mom over some coffee.

"With Holly," Nanny finished behind him. "She's with Holly."

He turned around and scratched his hair, feeling like an idiot.

"I'm sorry, I thought–"

"You thought she'd left you."

"Yes."

"How could she after last night!"

She sounded all too enthusiastic.

"How do you… Oh for Christ's sake, did you hear us again?"

The old woman was laughing at him. The look of horror on his face must have been a sight to see.

"No swearing under this roof!"

"Really?" he countered. "What about eavesdropping?"

"Old house, thin walls. Get over it, boy." Her face had the-Donna-look written all over it.

He sighed and turned around, ready to walk into the kitchen.

"Don't you dare disturb them," Nanny warned him.

"Why the hell not?" He didn't turn around, all too focused on how the scene unfolded in front of him; ready for all sorts of awful things to happen between mother and daughter.

"Because it's between them," she stated. She patted his shoulder. "And I know that whatever they're talking about, it's going well."

"They're talking about Jim."

"Possibly."

"Are they talking about them?"

"Harvey, I'm hearing-impaired, remember?"

He rolled his eyes and rested his head against the doorframe and saw Holly walk away from Donna.

"I'm taking her home today, you know?" Harvey explained.

"I know. You two are going to be great together."

"How can you be so sure?" Harvey turned around again, doubtful. His entire decision process flashed before his eyes; having given into his feelings for her and with the deadliest threshold being gone, he felt defenseless.

"Don't look at me!" Nanny held up her arms.

He sensed the door was being opened behind him. He turned around and saw her standing there. A slow and contained cheeky grin spread across her face and warmed him all over.

"Because I am," Donna winked at him.

The end.

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DGITTF

DGITTF

 **And that's it my friends! The last chapter. So sorry for the long wait. Holidays can take you away from fandom work sometimes. I hope you like the ending. If you did, please leave me a little review!**

 **I'd like to thank the beta to my alpha Alternateshadesofblue for her existence. The people who made her are amazing folks in my book.**

 **This last chapter is dedicated to Spectographer whose fanfiction The Secretary is one of the best there is. Even the best writers out there wish they could write like her.**

 **I'd like to thank all of those who've reviewed this fic and the coming ones. Fingers crossed for the rest of season 8 folks. I have a feeling darvey is coming because I've been baited as usual.**

 **B.**


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